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The thirty one days of Saint Padraig’s day

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jacksjg89

jacksjg89

PROCRASTINATOR
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My father and I were captured by pirates. They gave us a both a Mickey Finn and took us away from our home. We are off to a strange land, from whence we are not likely to return. And as my dress falls from my body, revealing my shame, I am shocked to see the villain waiting at the boats is none other than my true love.

On this first day of Saint Padraigs day, my true love gave me one knock out drop and sold me into slavery.

 
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jacksjg89 said:
View attachment 673699

My father and I were captured by pirates. They gave us a both a Mickey Finn and took us away from our home. We are off to a strange land, from whence we are not likely to return. And as my dress falls from my body, revealing my shame, I am shocked to see the villain waiting at the boats is none other than my true love.

On this first day of Saint Padraigs day, my true love gave me one knock out drop and sold me into slavery.

Click to expand...
Hum, the first pic is coming from French revolution : it shows how the republicans put people into pierced boat at Nantes to kill them by drowning ...
The video is the "Radeau de la méduse" , not a slavery'story ... ;)
 
messaline said:
Hum, the first pic is coming from French revolution : it shows how the republicans put people into pierced boat at Nantes to kill them by drowning ...
The video is the "Radeau de la méduse" , not a slavery'story ... ;)
Click to expand...
Good observations, my dear.

1.) I’m pairing each day with an Irish song, and though they may be a bit of a stretch, I’ll hope you’ll forgive me.
2.) St. Patrick was from mainland Europe and kindapped by pirates, so I thought that was a good pic to honor him with.
3.) I’m reading a giant book on the French Revolution no, party for myself but mostly for you Paskall ;)
 
jacksjg89 said:
St. Patrick was from mainland Europe and kindapped by pirates,
Click to expand...

Patrick was a Briton, there's endless speculation about where in Britain he came from
(Bannavem Tarburniae he says in his Confession, but where that was is anyone's guess,
we Scots like to think it was in our part of the island)
He was kidnapped as a lad and worked as a slave in Ireland
(traditionally on Slemish Mountain in Co Antrim)
escaped after 6 years and got back home, but did travel on the Continent
getting an education and ordination as a priest before returning as a missionary to Ireland.
 
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They took me below the ship and he was there waiting for me. I cursed him. I spat at him. I tried to beat him. I called him every vile thing I could think of. He just laughed, and yanked at was left of my dress. Naked, I huddled against the wall, still swearing while beginning a tearing at my shame. He came after me, gently cupped two hands around my face, and kissed me. This had been not half hour ago the man I loved, and even now, I had difficulty making him a villain. He seem to breath warmth into my exposed body, and I felt like I was protected. I gave up covering my nakedness to embrace him, and participated in his affectionate kiss. “You’ll always be mine,” he says and the sound of that fills me with great joy until I feel a steel cuff around my wrist.

I had let my guard down, and before I know it my wrist and ankles were in chains, and a steel color lay around my neck. After that he dragged me accross soggy wooden floor and threw me into a cage. I looked up at him, my heart not able to produce hatred. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask him.

“Because I love you,” he says. “And I want you, forever.” And gives me a second kiss, which I restrain myself from enjoying. He left me there, naked and chained in a cage, the women he said he loves.

On this second day of Saint Padraig’s day, my true love had given me
Two lying kisses
One knock out drop and sold me into slavery.

 
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Morning they found me shivering in my cage, the shame of my nudity no longer my chief concern. Wet hay had been my bed, and a sack of spoiled grain my pillow. The two pirates sniggered at my pathetic state, and told me they had a bowl of hot porridge for me, and wanted to see how badly I wanted it.


“Spread your pretty legs for us.” They told me, “And maybe we give you hot eats.”

I was curled in a ball, and no doubt they could have seen my sex from between my feet, but I would no be a willing participant in their games.

“That’s enough,” came a voice from behind them. “Give her the bowl and go.”

They did as they were told and left. I was grateful to him, the man I had not stopped loving, despite myself. I picked up the bowl, and made no mind that there was no spoon provided me and I shoved my face in it. My bowl and face wiped clean, he opened the iron grate door and blade me to rise, which I did, stubbornly covering my privates with my hands.

“There’s no need for that,” he told me, disconnecting the collar around my neck and detaching it from the rest of my restraints. “The sooner you except your fate, the less pain you will suffer.”

“And what exactly is my fate?” I asked him.

“To be my slave, of course. Do you know what that means?” He paused to see if I had an answer, but I had nothing worth saying. “I means I will be responsible for you. Is that the devil’s bargain you were expecting?”

“If it was a bargain of Jesus, Mary and Joseph I would reject it still.” I told him.

“Now, that’s no way to start our life as master and slave.” He said, shaking his head sadly. “Here, let’s start off small. I’ll give you an order, and you obey it. How does that sound?”

“I’m not going to do anything you say,” I told him defiantly.

“Put these on,” he told me, throwing a few dirty rags at my feet. “You’ll have five minutes to get dressed and get on deck. And if you ain’t dressed, than your father is not only going to get a vision of you in your birthday attire, but also he’s gonna see his grandchild get made. Is that something you’ll want? Are you perverse like that, my love?”

And with that term of endearment, her turned his back on me and left. She stood looking after him, stunned by his polite indifference to her vulnerability. Almost 12 hours of complete nakedness, the longest of her adult life, and she had not been violated. Maybe he really did care for her. But she was not about to accept that.

Still, as much as she wanted to resist his commands, he was tired of looking down and seeing not but skin and steel. She found a strip of cloth, and with difficulty managed to wrap in around her crotch, and use the second one I wrapped around my bosom. The third was a long dirty gown, with straps to tie over my shoulders. Finally attired for public attendance, I mounted the stairs, and upon seeing my father, ran to embrace him.

“My darling,” he whispered. “Have they hurt you? Have they touched you?”

“No father,” she said to him. “I am unharmed.”
On the third day of Saint Padraig’s Day, my true love had given me,
Three dirty rags
Two lying kisses
And A knock out drop to take me into slavery*

*It’s no longer sell into slavery, because he’s keeping her.



It occurs to me that I should be tributing the artwork of those I rip from, or explain where I got it.
First day was Joseph Aubert “The Drowning at Nantes”
Second day came from Restrained Elegance.
Third day is obviously Tibool, taken from chainganggirls.com
 
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I was laying by my fathers side when the captured were roused from their sleep, and made to stand. Of the twenty or so prisoners, I and four others were pulled from the group and made to go on deck. He was standing there, in a nice coat and boats and trousers and a plumed green hat, and bade me come to him. “Take my bag on shore, would you dear?” He asked of me. It was then I noticed we were docked, and a small harbor town surrounded by green hills and fields. I took his bag, ridiculous for it would have been a simple task for him to carry it himself, and yet it was a struggle for me. I supposed that those of us who had been brought up were to help with the unloading of the ships cargo before the rest were brought on shore. But as I set his heavy bag on the wood platform I saw the bridge being lifted up, and the ship began to sail away.

“Don’t worry about him,” the serpent said in my ear. It was time for you to leave the nest anyways.

I did what I could to attack him. Tears were flowing freely as I tried to push him into the sea, but he merely grabbed my wrist and laughed, waving off those who might look more seriously on a “so-called slave” attacking her master. He dragged me onto land, where there was a carriage waiting for him, the driver having carried his bag the rest of the way.

“Come now, child,” the bastard said to me. “I am willing to forgive this lack of discipline if you ask for it. Apologize to your master, and I’ll let you sit on my lap on our journey home. Otherwise, you’ll have to walk.”

“Go choke on your own phallaus” was the most grotesque thing I could think to say to him.

“Come now. It is quite a distance, and you don’t want to be scurrying behind our horses do you? You would be much more comfortable inside than out.”

“I’ll be more comfortable when maggots are eating your eyeballs,” I says to him, ready for whatever was to come next.

He shrugged sadly, and tore off my dress before undoing the wrappings around my privates areas to an audience of curious observers who looked on with interest.

In a few minutes we were ready to leave, and I was naked, cuffs behind my back, and a chain attached to the end of the carriage. He stuck his head out and called to me. “It’s four miles to the manor. We’ll keep a slow pace for your benefit dear.”

And then we were off. I was taunted by the spectators who thought I should have known my place. I was not use to my nudity being a public spectacle, but I was more focused on the steps in front of me, and maintaining my resolve that I should not serve the man who had down this to me.

On the fourth day of Saint Padraig’s Day, my true love had given me,
Four miles walking
Three dirty rags
Two lying kisses
And A knock out drop to take me into slavery


Pic above is from hogtied I believe.
 
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I am in complete darkness, having continued my resolution to refuse any command given me by the man who demands I call him master. So I am taking to a barn for insubordination and subjected to what is known as the five techniques. A hood is placed over my head and I am bound to a frame that forces me into a difficult squatting position. I’ve had no food or drink in quite awhile, silver lining is that I am not in danger of making a mess, and I am occasionally fondled so as to make sure I am not falling asleep. But worst of all is the record they put on. Not stop painful noises that are driving me insane. I tried to use each track to estimate the passage of time, but each one appeared to go on forever. I feel my will breaking, my skin drying from lack of sleep, my stomach growling, and my ears pounding from the uneven, disorganized infrequent intensities of sounds. I don’t think I can take much more. Master? Where are you master? I am ready to serve!

On the fifth day of Saint Padraig’s Day, my true love had given me,
The five techniques
Four miles walking
Three dirty rags
Two lying kisses
And A knock out drop to take me into slavery

Listen at your own risk
 
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