Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Note, this is a continuation of Marina, trigger warnings inclusive:
Bondage, flogging, rape, torture, and for those homophobes out there, some
fm/M for good measure.  The ages are iffy, because though she's about 14,
she's also married, pregnant, and doing far worse than our modern standards
for the age of sexual maturity.  She's a fucking pirate, genocide survivor,
and governess.  Statutory rape is moot on 3 axes.  The para-parenthetical
{Braces} asides are the DM's, no cyberdemons onboard yet.  Or if they're
then, than they're lurking.

   Morion {F+...  Pira Maim Phag.}

   So, they haul me aboard, {Your arm is useless, and it's really starting
to hurt.} "Uh!" {Doesn't bend right, neither.} Try to see what's wrong with
my arm.  {Well, it's hard to see much with the sleeve, and the bracer, but
it's bent backwards.} "Why?" It's really starting to hurt, and I'm
shivering.

   {On deck, everyone's mopping up from the battle, boarding, and capture.
The rigging is going to take a lot of work, and it doesn't look like your's
at all.} "Spanish rigging." {Also a lighter faster single mast and Jib
ship.} Check out the goldcap first.  It's on the deck, next to the
Conquestadore', bleeding out.  Mateo cutting the straps to pull out the
blade.  Slowly, with the breastplate.

   "He will not live." Not with a pizza slice of steel buried to the hilt
in his gut, intestines, and omentum.  He bleeds the rest of the way out
almost immediately, but it's black, chunky, and stinks.

   "That's My XP!" Pick up My Kap before it gets soiled, and try it on.

   It's too big.  "Your arm," Mateo gets up, helps you out of your bracer,
and expertly cuts off your sleeve.  Now the ship's doctor, of sorts.  Son
of a tailor, he can stitch a sail, or a mean pair of pants too.

   {Josh?  "Yeah, uh I'm not really going anywhere with this Maestro de
Arma, so if you're advancing Mateo to NPC, you want to swap out with me?"
Yeah, that would be great, actually.}

   It had been a few months, he'd gone through a growth spurt, but so have
I.  "How's it look?"

   {Not good, just the sight of it flashes back to you, throwing yourself
over the railing, the frayed end wrapping around your bracer, and holding
your arm back, over the rail, then falling, tumbling into the water.  You
failed your dex check, critically.}

   "Huh."

   "I do not know if I can save it." He speaks Greek now?  {Some, better,
following her around with moon eyes, and he can read.  Had access to books,
on the Mediterranian about half of the medical texts would be in Greek, or
translated from them..  Probably studied with Kappatan Troy as well.  Her
Latin is getting good enough to close the gap, you can talk
conversationally in a combination of the 2.} And my Mastro?  {Left with the
old captain, his personal physician, ultimately why you're aboard in the
first place.}

   Stand up, "Anybody speak Greek?  Latine Loqui?"

   "Yes, I speak Greccan." Classic language, he's an Educated Spaniard.

   "Who's in command now?  After him?" I have to push the gold cap out of
my eyes.

   He looks up.  "Kaputan." Back down.  "Your arm."

   "Never mind my arm," grab his mouth, with my good one, "I am in charge,
this is My ship now, so take me to My Kaputan."

   "Si.  Signora. ..  ?"

   "Morion," Nod, push it back up out of my eyes.

   "Yes, Morion."

   At the door, to the Captain's quarters.  He's going to have to move his
stuff.  {Your arm is starting to swell, with blood.  Basically a bruise,
it's turning into a bag of blood.}

   "Mi Kappatina,"

   "What is it Mateo?"

   "I must, do something about your arm, soon."

   "I'm fine, I'll heal."

   "No, Kappatana, it could kill you."

   "It is barred, from the inside.  Kaputan Morion.  Probably barricaded as
well, for the siege."

   "Get it open." My sword arm?  {No, your rigging arm.} Pull out my sword,
dried off on the Conqui's pants, as per tradition, of course.

   "La Batalla Terminado," The Spanyard beat on the door.  "Mas hemos
heridos, maestro."

   Sounds a lot like Latin.  {You're starting to shiver, might want to get
out of those cold wet clothes as well.}

   Mateo rigs up a quick splint.  Straight out, bent backwards at the
elbow? {Yeah, basically.} Okay, so use the bracer, and strips torn from her
sleeve.  Bind it on over the elbow, so at least it's not flopping back, and
forth like a Gelfi's.}

   What's a Gelfi?  {Nonsequitor, a different campaign.  Roll it.  Okay,
yeah.  You've got it stabilized anyway.} Still hurts like hell.  {You all
hear furniture being dragged back until finally they can lift the bar, and
turn the new-fangled key-lock to get the door open.}

   Wave some big burly boarder rigger guys over so we got some muscle
coming in.  With my good arm, try to keep my splinted one fairly still.

   "You are in no condition to fight, Kappatina."

   "Huh," step back, let the boys handle it.  'Ropes, take them alive..'
You know, I like to lead from the front, but maybe Mateo is right, I feel
like sitting this one out.

   {Well, a 5-on 2 melee breaks out, or into the captain's quarters, with
predictable results.  By the time you're carried in, by Mateo, you can
barely stand, and they're tied to chairs.}

   "Well," stand up, "I know one way to get my blood up again." Pull my
sword.  {Con check?  Okay, but you're running on fumes.}

   "Translate," look back, "Where were you headded?" {They don't look
willing to talk.} I didn't even roll for Charisma.  {Oh well, looks like
you're going to have to torture them.}

   "Start with the first mate, strip him to the breeches." {Your riggers
make it so.} Just hands tied behind the chairbacks?  {And legs roped to the
seat and legs.} Good riggers.  "Somebody bring me a fire." Look back, "A
torch, some embers, or something."

   {You notice the first mate is scarred.} How scarred?  {Extensively, all
over his chest, shoulders, upper arms, and back.}

   Medical training, Pirates.  Her victims.  {Huh.  All right, Wiz?  Yeah,
either this guy's had the shit tortured out of him.  Intel?  Yeah, or half
of it's self inflicted.} "Pennitente'."

   "Huh?"

   "Flagellate, they whip themselves, into a spiritual trance, hard-core
fanatical masochist." {The torture equivalent of a Boss fight, "No one
expects the Spanish Inquisition!"} How long have you been holding that in?
{You have no idea.}

   "Okay," lean in, "You like to beat yourself?" Gustaria, casigue?  "Where
were you headded?" I've got a broad, flat slashing tip, so start with knife
play.  Don't cut him, just let him get used to the idea.  I think, can I
see his ribs?  {He's emaciated.} Good, start by tracing between his ribs.
{He says something in Spanish- latin.} "What was that?"

   "You can kill me, but you cannot force me to talk."

   Okay!  Bottom rib, just above that, get the point in, and wiggle it back
and forth to work the tip in, slowly.  {He closes his eyes, ROLL And,
doesn't even wince a whole lot.  He's got an insane pain tolerance, and you
haven't even started to scare him yet.} I'm not stabbing, him, I'm working
my point in so I can grip the quillions.  Thumb on one side, and fingers on
the other, to pry his bottom rib down.  {Hh.  Well, yes.} "There is pain,"
{Rolls,} "And then there is pain.  Tell him." Calmly.

   {You smell smoke, a rigger comes back with a lit torch.} Look back, slip
the tip out.  "Oh good," hold it over the flame for a little while.  Look
back, "Now, I'm going to ask you again, where where you headded?"

   {Roll Charm.} Plop.  {Yeah.} "Constantinople."

   DM {Background}

   All right, new campaign, and since it's Mine, let me clear up a few
things:
1: Morion's an NPC, of course, basically Admiral of the Pirate Fleet.  I
thought about it, and her Authority is mostly based on a Xanatos Gambit {TV
Tropes will ruin your life.} She's a skinny little 14 year old girl.  Give
or take a year, but throw in Malnutrition, and, an active lifestyle.  She
bloomed late, like an Olympic level Gymnast.  She's small, she's cute,
she's absolutely ruthless, but before she makes a Name for herself, the
pirates realize that even if they win, they'll never live down beating up
what basically looks like a 12 year old girl playing Pirate.  Except her
crew, they know Kappatana is more bark than bite, but it's a nasty,
fucking, bite.  So, not only do you have to worry about her being 'just' a
little girl, but she also makes it hurt as much as possible, for every
single hit point you take from her.  You're going to lose blood, a lot of
it, and quite possibly die, suffering, right after her.
2: Okay, she's gonna take a break.  Just lost an arm, just got Pregnant,
so she's gonna stay home, and oversee the construction of Her rock, while
you guys go out and pick up some experience points.  Richy, you okay with
Troi?  Okay, you can handle Mortis`, and Doc Mateo, because they probably
won't be both playing at the same time.  Mateo can patch up the wounded,
and captures, or Morti can bang on the anvil for a few.
And 3: She's Morion now.  Full on raging psycho Berserker, probably
don't want to be anywhere near that island while she's raging, flogging
people, and throwing things to get it the way she wants it.  She melted the
Gold off, so it's forge blackened, and had Morti bang it in closer to her
head, while learning to braid it, like this: o7 to cushion it in the
lining. As they spread across Europe, and the seas with the Rennaissance,
she's the only Woman in a Morion, and that's the bitch in the blackened
Morion.  Being a mostly Spanish crew, we're wearing them as well, and
Morti, you learn to crank them out in your sleep.  But soon, everyone in
the immediate area is going to learn to fear the Womon in the blackened
Morion, and you're flying Her flag.  The Morion, with the Cinqueda behind
it, and this is the whip wrapped around it in a ring.  In blood, on

sailcloth, hence the red ink.  [ ]

   Oh yeah, and she fills out a lot in the chest from the pregnancy.  Drool
away, nerds.  Now, let's play some Pirates;}

   {Author's note: She's drawn, basically like Hilde' von Kronne (Soul
Calibur) with her flag, and Cinquedea.  A single broad shallow ferule,
instead of the 5, to brace her bracer in.}

   Marinana (G-f Preg.  Essentually Mother/marina.  The port is as much a
baby as Her husband's.}

   "Hh," I turned the scope, mounted to the rail like a swivel-gun, and
rested my chin on it sideways.  Closed my eyes.

   "Kaputana?" I sniffed.  Waved the Spotter back.  "Hh," the old crew, I
was from, new I only really have a problem with sea-sickness with the
scope. Never really got the hang of following a target, with the rocking of
the ship, and holding my guts together.  My crew, mostly Spaniards, let
them wonder if that was the case.  They talk, the more rumors, the less
they know the truth.  "Huh!" Wipe my eyes.  With my hand, stand, and point
with my stump.

   I didn't recognize it.  The ruin of my old life.  Dredged deeper, to
start sand-bars around it, the burnt shells of buildings tented over with
sail-cloth, like shrouds.  My warships flanking the beginnings of My
Harbor. "Prepare to land."

   "Si', governorra." Governoress, wife of the Governore de la Troi, and
personal disciplinarian.  They understood, I told them.  Of course,
hypothetically, it doesn't permanently damage them, they can go back to
work.  But, being beaten by a "Little girl" leaves scars, that ache long
after the flesh has healed.  Just like a single lash gets the point across.
Every one after that is progressively less effective.  It's how you hit
them, which depends on how bad they fucked up.

   Pulling into the harbor, de Isla di Marina, I guess, set my shoulder
sword on the way down to the landing boat with a shrug, so it doesn't slip
down, hanging onto the pommel knot with my feet, and the line with my arm.
{Dual Cinquedea?} So I can throw my old one.  Look over My Marina, instead
of watching the strong, bare tanned sweaty arms of My oarsman.  Porters
carrying stone out to anchor the sandbars, barely more than spurs of the
narrow rocky excuse for a beach inside the climbable cliffs all around the
inlet.

   Here's a map of the rock of Pori.  {And time to get out Google Earth:
[Pori Island Greece] Between Kithra, and AnteKithra, basically at the mouth
of the Ionian\Aegean seas.  Should give you some idea.} Now, this big curve
in the north side would be great, if it wasn't surrounded by the
aformentioned sea weathered cliffs.  No real usable beach there except at
super low tide, for a few hours.  Might as well storm castle walls, wait
till My cannon get here.  On the south side, of the main Delta shaped mass
is the Eisodos.  This is the dock, but it's barely a landing over the sand
at this point, with stairs up each side.  Town is up here, but it mostly
burned out stone shells tented over with sailcoth in case a squall blows
over.  It's a rock, with some Junipers, and Olive Trees clinging to it
where some dirt managed to pile up.

   The Santa Isadora pulls in behind you, and Governorre Troi lands shortly
thereafter, as you're getting on the dock.  "Husband," hug him, "Thank
you," and a kiss.  "How is she?" Look over her shoulder.

   "Shot to shit, we made it, but we have full time teams bailing the whole
way."

   "Good," smq, "So how do you like Your new ship," over his other
shoulder, "Theotokos?" Had them change the name, and the registration
underweigh.  He signed off on it, out of Isla de Marina, Tusckani.  "She is
fast, well armed, with a regulated crew." Have them raise a bow on the
mainmast.

   "She is a fine ship."

   "Then have them ground your old one, and strip her for timbers.  We need
a dock, and the ones they brought are running out." More bushes than trees
on Pori.  "Yes dear," he let me go, and started gathering men, sending
messages by boat, and climbed on His new landing boat.  "Take me to my
ship." 2 warships to chose from, but I knew he'd want the fastest one in
the fleet, and the 2 big guns to flank him.

   DMBF {FdoM}

   "So, how was that?"

   "Good Game?"

   "Glad you liked it, you got a ride home?"

   "The bus," she knew that.

   "Let me give you a ride home." She was being nice to me, like she was to
Mateo, when she wanted something.  Her first game, last semester, and over
the winter break.

   "Nice car."

   "Thanks," Monte Carlo, white padded top, 2 lights, stacked on top of
eachother on each side.  [Landau Edition.] "It was my husband's."

   "You're divorced?" Didn't know she was married.

   "Not yet." Shrugs, throws her bookbag behind the seat, and tilts it back
up.  "Where do you live?"

   "Galisteo?"

   "And"

   "Over by the rose garden?" Yeah, "So, Cordoba."

   "CordoVa."

   She shakes her head, starts the car, "It's Spanish, Cordoba."

   I was taking Spanish!

   "You break up with Richy?" She shook her head, "Uh." Felt my leg.  "Hh,
I don't do, Monogamy.  My husband understands, and if we don't tell Riche',
he won't, try to put a hex on us, or get the voodoo dolls out, or
whatever." The front of my pants.  She did this before, they started. 
Well, they don't really go out, just game, and fuck.

   "Gh!"

   "Hehaha!" she slapped my knee, "Sure wish I was the DM's girlfriend."
She mocked me, "So, you think you can take it?"

   "I don't know," I joked back.  I think, "Richy said you're pretty
Kinky." Morion isn't just a, D&D character.

   "What about you?" Other than that 1 handjob?

   "Honestly," don't lie to her, "Huh.  I'm not, all that, experienced, in
that department." If she finds out.

   "Sex?" she laughed, "Well, lets see if we can give you some XP.  For
playing so well, tonight." I nodded, but she was rubbing my crotch again,
stopped to reach up, kick the clutch, jerk it down a gear, and roll through
a turn I thought would put us up on 2 wheels.  "So, you're not still living
with modre y padre?" Of course, she's taking it too, but I'm latino, so my
pronunciation is better.  "So, Jimmy, you ever seen a grown man, naked?"

   "Huh?"

   She winked, "Airplane!" Oh right, like in that movie, with the pilot. 
"What kinda kinky?" I shrugged, "What did he tell you?" It sounded like a
warning.

   "You know, you like to tie him up.  He said you don't, beat him, but
it's like play beating, without the pain."

   "It takes a lot more control," she nodded, "but I don't have to hurt
you."

   "And role-play, you like to do it in character."

   "Yeah, we did Mateo, so how about Mortis` tonight?  He didn't get most
of the XP," less combat, and more.  Amputation.

   In the game, she still had both hands, "And Morion?" I dreamed, well
even he dreamed of Morion.  Watching her, belowdecks, holding her sword,
her whip.  I had a squire once, named Caddy.  Mateo, and Mortis were more
like nurses, for an Inquisition.  Like a Gangbang, only, with cum.  All
over her, never seen it, or even her topless, but I could imagine.  Quite a
lot, actually.  "Hh!" She stopped.

   "Not yet," she patted it, "Better save yourself for when we get there."

   He said it was incredible.  The best girl he ever had.  But he never had
her, nobody does.  He was Her boyfriend, still is, probably.  "Hh," they
can't satisfy her.  No one man can.  He didn't tell me that, I figured it
out myself.  I'll try, but I'm not going to try to have her.  Make her
anything.  I'll take whatever she'll give me, as much as I can.  "He said
you abuse him."

   "Is that right, then why's he stay?"

   "Because you make him like it." That sounds great.

   Mateo {fm Ampu/Fm Bind Fant}

   "Hh!" she lay back, held her stump up.  {Grab that ace bandage.}

   Okay, I kneel to change her dressing.  {Just wrap it around my elbow. 
Tighter, all the way up to my wrist.}

   "Help me out of this," her tunic, pulled out one handed, the laces
already undone.

   "Uh," she took my hand, held it to the rough linen.  {Where did you get
this, you didn't weave it yourself.

   Huh!  Curtains, get on with it, this isn't turning me on.}

   No bra, of course, another ace bandage, wrapped around to support them.
And yeah, tits.  She closed her eyes, held up a pair of scissors.  Or a
knife, probably a rusty iron triangle on a stick, but I cut the binding. 
To snap up from the bottom.

   "Uh, hh!  Hhn.  Hhhh." It seemed to snap free, probably the elastic in
the bandage, but I was rewarded with the curve underneath, and inside with
the bandage cutting back in fits, and starts, with nice jiggles when the
last of it snapped.  "Huh!" She grabbed my neck, "Hawlm!"

   Great kisser, I guess.  Not a whole lot to compare it to, but not a shy
awkward nerdy kiss in the back of the library.  She invaded my mouth, and
whipped it to submission with the lash of her tongue.

   "Mh, hm?" I nodded, but her hand was on mine, putting it on her chest,
then grabbing another, and her mouth moving away, "Huh!" her chin up, "My
neck," looked so red, "HuhH!  No, your mouth, huh!  Kiss it, yeah!"

   And she gets real hot, real fast.  I saw it before, and heard, but this
time, I was still even a little surprised by it.  Her chest felt feverish,
and the tanline at the neckline seemed to flood out with blood across the
scattered brown freckles down between her.  Big soft round womanly
handfulls of boobs.  "Huh!" I mean, I like her neck too, but I started
working my way down.

   "So," her bandaged forearm rested on my back.  I looked up, she looked
bored?

   "Ever been with a man before?" I shook my head, "Hh, played with any of
the other boys?" No, "Jerked off, looked at, even bi porn?"

   "I'm straight."

   "Buttfucking?"

   "Huh," I had to look away.

   "Virgin?"

   "Well, not." I did have a handjob once.  "I haven't really done it, all
the way."

   She laughed, "Well," slapped my back, "Nobody has.  You've just got more
to learn." She taught me.

   ;

   Morion {FM Drug Morn Mnem NS}

   The men told me.  Italiani, Latin, Tuscan men.  My men, from the
warships.  The rock was thought abandoned, but there was a survivor. 
Another, "Crazy old man, and sheep." Survivors, plural.  He pointed up the
hill.  Old man fleece, he never was, one of us.  But he sent his sons down,
to sell wool.  To our mothers, now don't start crying like a little girl.
This is no longer my home, I have to wear boots on the rocks.  It's a
climb, a hell of a climb just to get up off the small rocky beach.  {Troi
sends 2 men, from the Warships to accompany you.} I'm safe, it's My island,
and there isn't so much as a wolf on there.  {He sends them anyway.} Hhuh!
All right.  {They help you up the rocky trail.} I hate that.  {I know, but
you lost a lot of blood, and you're pregnant.} I have to smile a little to
myself.  He's learning, how not to ask.  To get things done, if you ask,
they don't happen.  They argue, and I was in no mood to argue.

   At the top, I can look back, down at the growing port.  The skuttled
ship, my first.  Being stripped for timbers, the deck extending out into
the deeper water of the harbor.  The string of burnt stone shells, the
sailcloth tents over the roofs, puffing under a gust in from the sea.  The
tiny men, carrying rocks to anchor the sandbar piers.  "Huh!" Catch my
breath, and start for the more gentle slope.  Between low straggling
juniper, and olive trees, out of season.  We could harvest them before, as
we did with our mothers.  Sniff.  "Huh!" To press out the oil, fry our
fish, or pack them in barrels, for the sailors.  Trade for glass jars of
salted lemons, to stave off the Skurvy.  Pori was like a ship, only
grounded.  It never went anywhere, didn't support enough for even the
fishing village without trade, but now we had 2 Warships, and a fast
Spanish scout.

   I blinked, stuck between memory, and the future unfolding before me. 
Winked one eye, then the other.  Looked up, and pushed my hot cap back on
the sweaty coil of braids I padded out the lining with.  It was already
hot, but something moved.  Like a dark grey cloud, on the hilltop.  The
herd, he would not be hard to find, nor follow.  It was behind me, my
future, and ahead, the memory.  Coming up here, when they got too old for
the climb.  Their sons came down to fish, and marry our girls, make them
women.  "Hh," I shifted my sword on my thigh, felt the reassuring, modern
weight, the hard round coin of a pommel, and the twisted steel wire, wound
around the grip.  I handed my sun warmed Kap to one of the soldiers to
carry.  Uncoiled my hair, and picked the braid apart with my nails, like
marlinspikes.  It cooled my head, drying in the sun, as I pulled out the
curls with my fingers.  It was a long walk, the longest one on the island.
But do something, or it takes forever.

   I licked my fingers, slipped them under my tongue, and whistled. 
"SHRIT!" He got up, hobbling out from the shade of a Juniper, no doubt
cursing to himself, and lashing with his whip to scare the stragglers back
into the flock.  It took him a while, but it was a long climb, and my legs
were tired.

   "Oaxana?"

   "Go get the rest," I sent the men, to help reign in the flock.  It might
have been funny, to watch soldiers, trying to herd sheep in armor, but he
held up his hands.  His arms, dropping his stick, and I ran.  The years
washed away like a picture drawn in the sand, like a dream, a horrible
nitemare.  He stank, and I just breathed it in, his woolen vest, old man
sweat, and the spiced drink on his breath.

   "Huh!" I wiped my eyes.

   "What happened to your arm?"

   I even laughed a little, "I got in a fight, with some Spaniards." The
leather sock, and shoulder strap felt hot, and sweaty, but I had forgotten.
"They died." All morning, hadn't even thought about it since Mateo replaced
the bandage until I couldn't embrace him with both arms.  I held out my
hand, 2 doubloons for his eyes to sparkle, and his lips to part in a
toothless grin.

   "What are these for?" He snatched them away quickly.

   "I need to buy a whip," I patted his back, "And talk about what
happened." He saw it, the fires, and took me up to his cabin.  Old stones,
set when he was young, the oldest building on the island.  Long before my
family came here, from Antekithra.  "Come up," he looked back, at his
flock, "I can trust them, with the men?"

   "They will not lose a single one," I promised, "Or they will pay." The 2
gold could probably buy the rest of the island.  Not counting everything in
the port.  You couldn't even see it from here, just the masts, and flags of
the warships, rocking in the surf.  Pori is old, in time, she will forget
even us.

   "Kah!" He set down his bottle, and "Nnnhhh!" Settled slowly on a stool.
I took down a clay cup, and blew out the dust.  Set it down for him to
pour.

   "Have you seen my mother?" he shook his head, so I threw it back. 
"GAH!" I coughed.  "Khuh, huh!"

   "She was killed." I nodded.  Good, she didn't suffer too long.  "I'm so
sorry, they all were.  There were few survivors, they left with the next
ship.  But none from your family." I winced, held the seccond mouthful to
let the anis, and clove numb my teeth, and throat.  {An unique spirit, no
longer produced.  Like spiced Retsina, or a precursor to Ouzo.  Actually a
flavored Gin, since he's only got Juniper berries to distill on the island.
Basically Absinthe without the wormwood, or herbal satchet to make it
green. And hallucenogenic.} "Crlq, kah!" The first sip is always the worst.
He drinks it like baby's wine.  {Again, cultural differences.  the water
would probably kill an infant, so they drink as anticeptic, it's like
Oaxana's sexual, hystery.  It's Normal.}

   His wife hobbled in, from her gardens.  Remarked "My, how you've grown."
I haven't seen them in years, it is a long climb.  She didn't say anything,
but patted my growing belly.  It was getting harder to hide, especially
crouched drunk over a stool.  "Huh!"

   "Come here," his eyes flashed, with as much joy as the sunlight catching
the gold out front.  For such an old man, and crone, they still had that.
"Can you spin?" He checked her hands, the knots around her shaking
knuckles. She was strong enough to pick up the bottle.  "Crlq, crwlq. 
Kah!" Good, strong Greek woman.  She set it down, and bent over the wheel.
Like a sharpening stone, she kicked the pedal, and pulled yarn from a
basket beside her.

   We went out, he had to check on his flock, and chase the soldiers off. I
borrowed a stick, very drunk, but he pointed out the graveyard.  Where he
buried his sons, as well.  I sighed, having enough drink to do this. 
Wobbled down the slope, and around the rock that protected it.  A massive
gravestone, unmarked, no way of knowing where she was buried, but I
mourned. For all of them, my life, Oaxhana too.  Pulled out a purse, a
loose one, and had to pull the strings with my teeth.  My bones, cooked,
and ground to powder.  I poured them out, and smoothed the soil over, for
the chips, and knuckles to mingle with the flakes of rock.  Returning that
part of me to the island.  "Huh!" Never been much of a mourning person, but
I said my goodbyes.  Looking back, I blinked at the vision of her.  Little
Oaxhana, laughing and playing with her brothers, his sons.  Holding up the
wooden aspis for them to throw rocks, and make thunder noised with their
mouths.  "Snh!" I leaned on the stick, my sleeve against the crotch, and
twisted my hair in my hand.  Oaxana is dead, a memory, she died in the
fire.

   "Give me my Morion." I put it on, shaking my head to set it on my hair.
"Let's go back."

   His wife loaded them down, with as much wool as they could carry.  And 3
skeins.  "Governorre?" One took my arm, but I pulled it out, and fell.  The
stick rattled off the trail, but he kicked me.

   "Uhl!" right in the stomach, "Hrulk!" I panted, cold fish stew for
breakfast.  "Krauhlk!" I spat, gagged, and crawled away from the stinking
mess to stop heaving.  "Hh, hh?" They helped me up, half carried me down to
the cliffs, and the tail leading back down to the Marina.  I had to stop,
undo my breeches, and hold onto a juniper bush to piss.  "Huh!" I fixed
them, pulled them tight to knot them 1 handed, then started down.  I felt
much better when we got back.

   ;

   Corruptor {Mm Mole NC}

   "So, Josh." put my beer down, arm up on the sofa.  Only really one place
to sit.  "Mari' tell you about your homework assignment?" I'm not bisexual,
I don't fucking care.  About sex, it's more about the mindfuck for me. 
Gay, straight, male, female, hermaphrodite if I ever get my hands on one.
Minds are like assholes, everyone's got one,

   and they can be Broken.

   "Have a seat," his living room, "Make yourself at home." Pat the corner
of the couch.  Like a Futon, really, that doesn't fold down to a bed,
looked like a patio, or pool bench with a pad, but wood frame, it'll do. 
"In chracter, we decided Morion is probably going to want a Menage' Troi,
next.  Best to build these stories slowly, makes your campaigns longer."

   He nodded, looked down at his lap, spread his hands.  "She said you're
bisexual."

   "Well, I'm certainly not narrow, now the question is, is Mateo, or
Morti?"

   He shrugged, I brushed the sleeve over his shoulder with my fingertips,
then relaxed before he looked.  So, it looked like he accidentally brushed
my fingers.  "The Marquis de la Troi certainly is, now we tend to play out
the erotic scenes, since dice don't really do it, for either of us.  I
seriously doubt he started fuckin around with one of them before he picked
her up, or all that holding her, crying herself to sleep before his watch,
then thinking about her...  Nothing but men on the ship, if you're not
ready for that kind of role play, we can find another guy.  Got a couple
promising prospect lined up, but they're not Gamers, so they have to learn
all the;"

   "No," he decided, took a deep breath, "I mean," finally looked back
over, smile charmingly without grinning, and leering.  "I guess, it depends
on what," he looked away, "I'd have to do."

   "Oh, nothing you're not comfortable with," tonight, "but like I said,
it's best to build up slowly.  Makes for a better story." Wink.

   I stood up, "Have you," unbuttoned my collar, "Ever seen a grown man,
naked?"

   He got it, smiled, then pretended to laugh.  Shook his head.

   "It's all right, first of all, nudity is natural." pulled the bottoms
out to get out more buttons.  "These, clothes are artificial, so there's
nothing wrong, or gay about seeing eachother nude, you want to take your
shirt off?  it's okay, see.  Nothing but a couple of guys, just get used to
it.  "I don't," flex, "Look too bad," pose from the waist up, "Do I?"

   "You're in real good shape," he noticed.

   "You circumcized, Mateo?" He nodded, "Catholica."

   He shook his head, "Actually, Basque.  From Barcelona, why he speaks
Spanish instead of Greek.  Helping Morion with it, while she's recovering,
and probably reading up on ob/gyn through the pregnancy."

   I grabbed another shirt.  Rule #1, every time you tell the story... 
Pulled it on.

   "Well," skinny little nerd, bit of a belly, like babyfat.  Maybe an
11-12 yo boy, if he doesn't mind shaving.  She can talk him into that, "Put
your shirt on in the car."

   "Where we going?"

   "Cypris." For some whores, midwives, handmaidens, and gigilos?  IDK,
some men, too.  Sexual professionals, do some shopping at the tittybar. 
"You like strippers?"

   Step #1: Make them more comfortable.  Usually start with nudity, "You
21?" He shook his head, Signal the other way.  Milkbar.  "Let's go find
some strippers."

   ...

   "Hey," he slowed down, "FERIN!" Leaned across, I don't guess he had to
hold himself up, on my lap, but I looked out to see her run up.

   Hippy chick, tall, kind of goofy looking, and maybe, I saw her at a
rave, or something?  Don't really hang out at the plaza.  "Gonna get sonny
here high."

   "I'm dry," she pulled the pockets out of her, weird skirt?  It took me a
moment to see it was actually a pair of pants, split open, then sewn back
together with 2 big triangular patches, front, and back.

   "I'm not," she opened the door, so I leaned in for her to get in the
back seat.  ""Scoot up," he patted my leg.  Right, long legs.  I jumped,
but it was just the lighter popping in the dash.

   "Pwh!" he passed it back.  She sat in the middle anyway.

   Pushed the armrest down, passed between the seats.  "Ere." I took it,
yeah I smoked before.  Not a lot though, and this was some high grade
stuff!

   "Thanks," he took it, and pinched it like a roach clip.  Knocked the ash
off on the edge of the window.

   "Plaz'?"

   "I'm meeting some friends up the arroyo, if you're headded that way."

   "Homeless camp?"

   "Yeah, by Artist's?" He nodded,

   shrugged.  "Just a doob cruise, got another one for the way down, then I
thought I'd see if I could get him layed.  You know anyone?"

   "Turn around,"

   I looked back.  "Me?" She nodded, frowning when some yellow light
flashed across the back seat.  "He's kinda cute, there's some girls
house-sitting/party squatting up in the heights, they might be down."

   I took it, another drag.  Turned, it tasted like incense?  or someone
handled it, then the weed, it happens some times.  Around here.

   "What kinda shit is this?" it hung in the air, heavy, not even rising
before the cracked window caught the edge, and sucked it out like an
unraveling sweater.  I shook my head.

   "Dragon's blood." He showed me.  It had red flecks in it.

   Ferrin laughed, nodding so hard her neon, and pastel wrapped dreadlocks
flopped.  "I tasted it."

   "What?"

   "The Opium."

   {Character note: The DM is the "Corruptor." OOooOO!  Basically a
drug-rapist with delusions of grandure, and mind control fantasies. 
Recurrent from Doors in the Mind, and a few others.  Basically, the
pathetic wretch I could have been in college if not pathologically
incapable of sex, or violence.}

   Josh {m (19) f/F Party}

   'Uh," my head.  Felt, empty?  Like my brains ran out, all over the
pillow.  I thought, I was dreaming, or remember the dream, but she was
there.  Her hair, shoulder, and an arm around me, pulling me back to
breasts in my back.  "Hh!" 2 girls, very bisexual, very fuzzy, a lot of
drugs, and just sitting there, unable to believe my luck.  "Hh!" Behind me.


   So, I thought I'd, try feeling her up.  The one in front of me, brown
hair, smelled wonderful, and the sheet slipped down her side, her hip, her
bottom.  "Mh?" She turned, scooted out to lay back, turning, to blink, her
eyes focusing right in front of me.  "Jeff, right?"

   "Josh." She nodded, but I felt her tit.  She didn't slap my hand away,
she just smiles, looked down, slipped her hand up under the sheet, and bit
her lip.  "Huh, good morning, Josh."

   "Yeah," it looked like it might be.

   "Heather?" She sat up behind me.  "Oh," I lay back, watched her stand
up, walk off to the bathroom.  Then, her.  Girlfriend?  What was her name,
the brunette.  She pushed the sheet down my legs, and her tits slipped over
my belly, the side of my ribs.  "Hmh!" I felt the hum, through her lips,
then her warm wet mouth, her tongue.

   "Uh," her hair.

   "UGH!" She coughed, spat, flushed the toilet.  Then it went dark, her
thigh over my face, and her crotch coming down in it.  She wasn't wet, yet.
I swear, all the stories I read, led me to believe girls dripped all the
time, a kiss was all it took for it to run down their legs, but all I could
think about was last night.  Her dancing with Heather, the clothes coming
off in their hands, giggling, and twisting sensuously, kissing, sucking
eachother's nipples.  Then getting down, to eat eachother out of course.

   His hand, on my leg.  Sliding up, undoing my belt.  My button, my
zipper. His mouth.  She can suck a dick, it felt pretty good, and morning
wood.  I discovered myself, it's not like a normal erection, and when it.
"Huh!"

   "Uh!" She pulled back, spat on my thigh, but it kept cumming, and I
remembered.  His mouth, sucking me off.  That man, I had no idea, but he
really knew how to suck a dick.

   "Huh!" she got up, wiping her cheek with the corner of a sheet.  Then
went in the bathroom, I couldn't resist patting her nice round swinging
fanny, then the shower swinging open.  The water louder, then quieter, as
she went in.  To shower with her girlfriend.  I closed my eyes, "Hhuh!"
Tried to remember, last night.  My tummy, rubbing the dick snot that fell
on it.  I didn't get hard again, for hours, but the girls are good at
keeping eachother warm.

   But Richy.  "Huh!" Yeah, he was probably right.  It wasn't that bad, I
liked it.  I guess, it's time I got over it.  It was just fear, all the
stuff they said about fags, and being gay, raised with expectations, to
find a woman, make her my wife, stay faithful to her, and of course, never
do anthing like that with another guy.  But, it was just a blowjob, and a
blowjob is like a blowjob.  Best one I ever had.  "Huh!" I got up, out of
what, 5?  No six, maybe more I don't remember with all the drugs.  But
still, that guy could suck a mean dick.  Better than even Marion, and she's
pretty fucking good at it.  Maybe, I just, never met the right guy?  But
better get cleaned up, while there's still some hot water.  Then the pool,
skinny dipping.

   They got out, I have to wipe the door to see them.  Heard them, kissing
loudly through the water, but fingerbanging, and getting down between her
legs to eat her out, her nice ass up on the sink cabinet.

   "Huh!" Until I got hard again.  Besides, it's not gay.  I like girls,
especially 2 hot young girls at once.  It's bi, nothing wrong with that. 
"Uh!" She turned, dug in her purse, most of the makeup already out on the
counter, but found another rubber.  "Come on," I took their hands, back to
bed.

   DM {FMm Role...}

   "Okay, so here's the revised political map.  Never mind the 16th century
sword, and Helmet, basically we're talking the fall of Constantinople,
Morea, and the Byzantine western Roman Empire.  Which is why Greece is
basically still in the Dark Ages, she's been gangraped by the Turks,
Romans, Western Romans, and now the Venitians are stepping up, unlacing
their breeches...  So, Greece is Crete.  Everything on the mainland is
being fought over, while our little island is technically Claimed by
Florence, we're here to throw a monkeywrench in the Venetian/Ottoman war
over Crete.  Which is still Sovriegn.  Kithra, and Antekithra are basically
in the same boat, that's where the fishers that settle Pori in the first
place came from, Greeks clinging to their little Islands, while the most
powerful navies in the world sail back and forth, warring, and raiding. 
The only way Pori, which doesn't have enough resources to be inhabitable,
survived was with Trade, and the relative protection from the Despotate of
Morea.

   Now it's war, and I mean a clusterfuck war, from every direction, but
first you guys make your pit-stop at Cypris to pick up whores, and make
contacts for supplies.  Like Lumber, I need lumber, lots of it, and enough
Iron to nail it all together.  No more ships, or crews, we barely have
enough to support 1 of the warships now, which means we can rotate them.  I
want one, to protect My Harbor at all times, until we start making money,
and building a better fleet.  Eventually, maybe expand to the Kithros for
more land and resources so we can be independant.  But that's the campaign,
guys.  While everyone's busy fighting eachother, we can steal ships, and
crews until we make to much of a name for herself, then it will be kind of
rowdy once everyone decides they want this strategic location, and to do
something about that annoying Pirate fleet.  I'll get to that when we get
to that.

   Now, Cypris is a city of Aphordite, city of love, and Prostitution. 
You're given explicit instructions: 1, No children, old enough to bleed. 
2: No Eunichs, slaves, or force impressment.  We do that with crews because
crews fight, but the women should not have to fight.  They are to keep the
men happy, so I don't have to whip them when I'm still getting used to
using the other arm.  We're not kidnapping them, you're taking that big bag
of Florins, and a small box of Dubloons 1 guy can lift, but 2 can carry for
any period of time to get willing girls, that like Pirates.  All kinds,
test them out yourselves, get some of the men onboard, have to be able to
take a Gangbang, and so forth.  But the orders are no more Massacres like
Pori.  No more rapes below deck, no more kidnapping women to use, and pitch
overboard when they're fucked hollow, willing whores to keep the men
satisfied, because I can't do it any more.  For like a year.  And, some
wetnurses and a good midwife because I'll need them too.

   So, Cypris is basically a holy city, considered Pagan by all the
christian Navies floating around, and dedicated to Aproodite Ourania. 
Conceived when Uranus shot his wad into the sea, she was born from the
Foam, and according to legend walked to the island, naked, on the water. 
Cypris is where she supposedly made her home.  So, there are the Temples,
then there's the street hookers, bar wenches, and other independant,
untaxed whores.  We don't want prostitutes, we want whores.  Should be
easier to enlist, because out money is good, and the gutter tramps have it
bad.  Harlotry is illegal, because it competes with donations for the
Temples' Preistesses, and ladies in waiting.  So, help them with their
whore problem, by exporting them, as many as you can seduce and carry. 
Since I won't be there to discipline the men, keep an eye on the Spaniards
especially.  I'm going to keep the Warships, and their men here to do some
decorating, and also dismount half their guns to cover the harbor.  That is
our only defense, so anything that comes in here, other than the Theotocus,
is more timbers we need for building.

   Mortis {Mfs, Pros...}

   Good to be in a city again, we checked out the markets, the sights, and
did some shopping, but really we're here on a mission.  The best one yet, I
couldn't wait to get started.  First in the harbor bar.  Lots of sour wine,
some fresh meat, it had been a day of salty cured meat, pecorino, and stale
bread.  And of course women.

   Troi turned over a gobblet (Clay, very flat, and round, with 2 handles
like ears,) and drops a Florin (Florentine gold coin) in it.  Calls for
Wine, a Roast, servers came with platters of lamb leg, and the owner came
out.  Wiping his hand, he looks in the glass.

   "Who is this?"

   "Aginos Iaonnis o Vatistis." He tipped it out in his palm, "Appo
Fioreanca'." Turned it in the guttering light from the fireplace, where
more lamb was being loaded on a spit.  Showing the Fleur de Lis, "But if
you prefer Spanish gold," Hold up a Doubloon.  His Greek is best, so he did
the talking.  "We took their ship, and another."

   Clapping, and drooling, he had the rest of the customers thrown out. 
"Your men must be tired, and hungry, after their long trip."

   "And lonely," he nodded, "It was a very long trip.  The Theotokus is
drying above the water."

   "So, you are Xristianos."

   "We, are not of a faith.  We, allow, whomever to join our crew, but we
have a lot of men, to climb the hill to the temple." Tuck the Florin back
in his purse, and let it hang in my lap, "So, it would be better if we
spent our money here."

   "Yes, of course."

   "Morti, go signal for the men."

   I took a torch, lit it by the fire to go out.  Wave it, Up, down, side
to side, in the basic signal.  <Here.  Over here.> No signal for women,
whores, Orgy, should probably work one out, but they'd find out.  I saw a
light, back.  Dip below the rail, then back up.  Down, up, then wave. 
Affirmative, on their way.  The drunks complained, staggering out, and off.
I doused the torch, and went back in.

   "You are Greek, right?" Grabbed her arm.  She nodded, "I have heard,
stories on the seas, I was not sure were to believed."

   She set the wine skin on her hip, turned to pay attention.  "What kind
of Stories?"

   "In Rome, before Konstantino, there was.  Men, who it, was allowed.  We
have many men coming, from the ship." She nodded, "But they are Catholica."

   "Xristanos."

   "Yes, so they have, problems, in their beliefs, about men, loving men."

   "It is not like that here," she nodded, "We are free of the
Konstantinites, and the Byzantinites.  Though Cypris is goddess of love,
she is not jealous of men's love.  For men."

   "And there are, what is the word.  Lovers, for money?"

   "Porni," she nodded.

   "Yes, Porni men, as well as women."

   "Yes."

   "We will need them as well."

   I have only felt Her lash once.  When I joined the ship, and it was not
her arm behind it.  It was the man I had taken, after I had been taken. 
Ever since, I must admit, I had found, a taste for men.  And the men, on
the Theotokus.  They are good Catholi de Espania.  I needed a good man, as
long as I was here.  But first, some wine...

   Morion {FMs Bukk...}

   "Huh!" Riggers.  Stripped to the breeches, casting and pulling.  Their
dark sweat glistened arms, pulling rope to keep their big hands strong, and
calloused.  "Hh!" I had started to lace on a blouse, but it was hot.  Sun
nearing the meridian (Noon) and my Husband was away.  With Whores, to
satisfy the men.  When they get back...

   "Govenorra?" They turned, saw me slip the strap from my shoulder.  The
cup, like the feeding masks they put on the horses.  My horses, I had them
now, when had Pori ever seen horses, to run through the Junipers, and olive
bushes?  It made My home, somehow more beautiful.

   "Kaputana." I stretched, felt the cool breese blow up from the water to
the sweat on my half arm.  Carefully pulled the bandage from the end.  The
poultice, I could not see the stitches, nor was I to touch them.  "Nh!"
Tender, but very nice, tight, in his small steady talented fingers.  I
nodded, "Line up."

   Start with, "Inspec`ion`." The one on the end, codpeice, breechlaces,
well armed, but docked.  Catholica, Espania most of them were, but he
readied in my hand.  1 hand, to pull rope, not that I had any dreams of
fishing again, with such a big strong crew, so many men, their sweat
carried on the breese to my nose.  "Snhhh!" When I opened my eyes, they had
their codpeices off, or pulled aside, their hose pulled apart, or their
breeches open.  Pulling them down, then bouncing when they stood back up.
"Stand up straight!" I released him, "All of you, close ranks."

   "Si, Kappatina." Excited, like a rank of pikes.  "Hmm," one still
shrouded, good.  Ask me why their Xristos, requires that sacrifice.  To
take, something from their men, but for me, it was less skin to pull.  "You
pull rope?"

   "Yes, we are riggers, Kaput';"

   "No," I demonstrated, "Pull rope," it winked at me, so I winked back.

   "It is forbidden."

   "En Espania!" I stopped, "This is not Espania, and your Hezeus is not
here.  I am here, you are My men, and I command you.  Now, riggers, take up
your ropes."

   "Yes, Kappatina."

   "Morion," It was hot, I set it down on top of a post, then pulled my
sword to anchor it.  Hung my stump sock, and my sword belt on it.  Turned
around.  "Huh!  You can do better than that," some were getting the hang of
it, but others, seemed to, not enjoy it?  "You, and you." How do you not
enjoy it?

   They stepped forward.  "Si`, Morion."

   "Let go, you do not." One even hung soft, "Enjoy this?"

   "It is sin." I looked, felt up his back, then ran my nails along the
scars.  Deep ones, deeper than I go for mere discipline.  I hit a man like
that, I expect for him to die.  "They beat you, for this?" He hung his
head, "You beat you, for this?" He shook his head.  "Hh, that is your god."
I had to turn, to get my arm back around.  The front, "He is no here, yes?
This is mi isla, and you, do not find me, comely?"

   "Yes," he looked, "Oh yes, mi Mor, Ah!"

   "I am not yours." I held back my hand, so he winced.  "You're Mine."
Seized his drooping Verga, "This is Mine, to do with as I please.  And you
do as I say, NOW!  Riggers, take up your rope, or pull eachother's."

   "Jes, mh," He looked up, "Morion." I patted his bottom.

   "Anyone else, having trouble?  Your Hezeus, is a slave god.  I do not
allow slaves, on my Island.  So, you have a choice, you can stay, and pull
rope for me, or." I turned, pointed, "Espania is that way." And it's a long
swim.

   "Yes, Morion," the protested, competing to assert they would stay, pull
rope for me.  But the nets were getting wet, needed to be pulled in, so I
sat down, folded my ankles under my legs, and leaned back.  "Yes, that's
good." All those men, all that "Rope," and the blood boiling in their
skins. Their purses bouncing, "Hh!" Hanging onto the top of a drying rack,
so I could lean back.  "Hh!"

   Pt!  "Uhn!" Ptpttbptp!

   "Huhhh!" Like hot rain, thicker than water, even blood, but my eyes
flashed, remembered clashing, steel rigning on steel, the tear of it
through flesh, and the hot spray of blood.  "HUH!"

   "Uhn Uh, Nuh!" grunting all around my, the patters bursting like a
sudden squall, the thunder of cannon, muskets, the sharp stench of
powersmoke, and screams.  "iUh, si`!"

   "Hhhhuh!"

   His scream, the splash of hot grease, sharp sting of scorched hair in my
nose, then the fires.  The rape, genocide, and terror all around me. 
"Ngh!" He just fell, unconscious with the first clumbsy swing to tear his
shirt.  he died, in bed, mateo said his blood rotted, he had a fever, he
suffered, but not enough.  Then the jerk, of the thick twist in my grip. 
the pommel at the back of my littlest finger, the lashes going taut, and
"AUH!" The bright tears, the welts, welling with blood.  bruising.  The
thudding pain in my hand.  my fingers swelling, even as i dug in the tip to
pry his rib down.  His choaked grunts, trying not to scream.  "Uh!" I fell
back.  My hair draping down to the water, waves lapping in on the breese,
pulling it aside like the coiled lashes going taut, and the plitter knot
pulling it in my hand.  the pain, throbbing, then stabbing in points, the
sharp crack of my elbow, the tight leader, crushing my bracer like a Kraken
until I fell in, the water washing up over me.

   "AGHGHGHGHGHGH!" The scream bubbled up around my face, my floating hair
to twist around my head, in coils like the tails of a thousand whips, then
fell across my shoulders.  "Hah!" I gasped, panted, and reached up for the
edge of the dock.

   "Pull my up," I didn't need help unlacing my breeches, pulling them off.
"Mateo, find me my Mateo." He told me, to keep it out of the water.  It was
stinging, but at least I didn't feel the ghost of it, the spirit in agony,
already in Hell.  Hades, he got a piece of me, and doesn't hesitate to
remind me.  Tugging at the silver line, too fine to see with mortal eyes.
"Get back to work." Plenty of fish in the sea, and the men have to eat. 
"Hh!" I lay back, put my arm up under my hair to dry in the sun.  Lifted my
head to see him running down the dock.  Scratched my beard to find it had
already dried...

   Meteo, {mF Cons Love}

   I told her, the salt, dries wounds, but it did pull the sutures tighter.
But I can't tell her, nobody can tell her anything.  She tells you, and the
world bends to her will.  "I fell off the dock," she shrugged.

   And she lies, "Huh!" I just need to care for her.  More, change the
bandage more often.  I brought my bag, felt out a jar, and pulled the
stopper like a short blunt fid.  Dipped out healing grease with my littlest
pinky to put it in my palm, a little more.

   "Does it hurt," I see no pain, in her face.  That day, when I had to cut
it off.  She screamed, bit on the roll of leather in her mouth.  But she
didn't even wince, the whole time.  She, tortured, that Spaniard.  She was
as calm as the morning doldroms, before the wind picks up.  Even as I could
see the blood pulse in her fingers, swollen black as liver.  She looked at
me, and I looked back.  She didn't even wince, until I really had to cut
deep.  A wet curl rolled across her brow, and she shook it away.  "What?"

   "I love you," I waited so long to say it, and winced, bracing myself for
the slap.  Her fingers on my cheek.  Gently, she looked back, "I know,"
smiled, "but how much?"

   "More than my mother."

   "Show me.  There are not words, in any tongue to tell a woman how you
feel.  You have to show me, your love, like a man.  No," she took my arm,
"Out here, in the light of day, and the eyes of the gods." I looked around,
but the riggers kept pulling, throwing, twisting fids, and rope-needles
into ropes, and splicing them.  Pulling fish from a bucket, and stropping
the knife on the stone.  She pulled out my laces.  "Uh?"

   "Don't worry about them, worry about Me." She was getting inpatient.

   "Yes, Marina."

   "Oaxana." {Yes, she's named after Marina Sirtus, the actress that played
Deanna (Daughter of Lwaxana) Troi on Star Trek: TNG.  Because she reminded
someone of her.  Mostly the hair, starting to grow into that figure.}

   "Hh," no one else calls her that.  Her real name, like Pori is of Her
island.

   "Your Oaxhana, you've grown.  You are a man." I nodded, "Then love me,
like a man." she pushed my breeches down, pulled me out, and the skin back
in her strong, thin, tight rough calloused fingers.  "Hh, now.  Love me
now."

   "Yes, my Oaxana."

   Her head fell back, her hair draping over the dock like an escaping
Calimar.  "Hh!" But she felt up my back, and I felt, her chest.  Her full,
soft fruit, kissing them, and hot around my neck.  "Hh!" her fingers on my
bottom, pulling into me, "Nh, harder, yes, Yes.  Harder!" She hit me,
slapped my bottom, which only forced me deeper with in her.  Her, my
Oachana.  Yes, I love her, I have always loved her, even before, she took
me down, her hand pulled me out, made me rock with the feeling of her tiny,
strong rough little hands.  Both of them, "Hah!"

   Then, Troi.  My captainTroi!  "Ah!" my Eyes flew open, "No!" I pulled
out, but it spat, and jumped like a snapped line beating the deck.  In her
curls, in front of her womanhood.  Her, womb, already promised to another
by the Medixi.  I had heard, a lot about the Medixi.  Enough to fear them,
almost as much as her, but she just held me.  Milked me like an udder.

   "Hh, What happened?"

   "Your husband."

   "Is gone, you are here, with me.  Kiss me." Yes, my love.  "Hh," she
licked her lips.  "I have not, bled.  In 2 moons." It took me, a moment to
figure it out.  Of course she had, in my hands, into a basin.  But she
ment, oh.  She nodded, "I am already pregnant, you won't make me pregnant
twice." Well, actually, the doctors at the University of Roma said it has
happened.  I do not correct her, I prefer my skin to stay on me.  It holds
in my blood.  Most of it, she held it up on her fingers.  "SmPb!" Closed
her eyes, and sighed.

   She is not, like, anyone.  We obey, but whatever you hold sacred. 
Whatever you believe, that is not her.  She cannot do that, she will shake
her fist at the sky, and if He comes down here, she will beat Him. 
"Again."

   Like her arm, she had it roasted, and the blood packed in casings.  To
be boiled, for her to eat.  She ate her own flesh, and blood.  Literally,
cooked it first, and picked the meat from between her fingerbones with her
teeth.  Had someone come in, with a hammer to crack the 2 longbones, and
scraped them out with her knife tip.  "No," she told me, "Eating people is
wrong.  But this is me, My meat, and it belongs to me.  What am I going to
make more blood with?  Should I bleed you, or the men?  No, that would be
Vampiri."

   She was right, we were just shocked at first.  We usually are, the first
time she steps out, topless, tits to the wind.  The first rope pulling
session below decks with the riggers.  And this time, in the light of day,
Not on deck, in the middle of the sea where a spotter would see anything
coming.  On the pier, literally the middle of town with everything around,
and all those men.  Those big dirty smelly riggers, and fish, and guts, and
blood dripping into the water between the boards.  As if she wanted every
fish pulled out of the sea.  But if she orders it, it will be done.  If we
protest, it will still be done, only we are punished.

   There are tales, in every culture.  They often say, he was the son of
Zeus, or born from a virgin, but there always are, and always been people,
born exceptional.  And with all the people in the world, you may only hear
about them.  Never see one, know one, talk to her, love her, and finally
have your love returned.

   I was a man today, the luckiest man in the world.  I cried I was so
happy.

   Troi {MM Cons}

   "So," I patted his shoulder.  Back onboard, the men finding berths for
the women, and fighting over, "Hang on, HEY!  Aqui.  They get the front
cabin." Pointed, "The women's cabin," I don't need one for the First
officer, he stays with the Men.  They get soft, forgetful, living like a
captain.  They are not, they are men, just first in line after me.  "Sir,"
the former captain came out.  "Grab your shit, make sure the women are
comfortable, and move belowdecks to find a bunk."

   "Seniore?"

   "You're not in trouble, I just need room for the women, we'll probably
move them out when we get back home." With favorable winds, that could be
some time tomorrow.  "And besides, the men need to be kept an eye on,
without Kapatina onboard." I still, to this day, don't know how she does
it, "So," back to my side of the deck, "Morti.  Couldn't help noticing you
going away.  Last night, with those men." 2 of them, one young and skinny,
the other older, and fatter.  "Go on in," I held the door for him, "How
long have you been my Maersto?"

   "I came aboard in Catania."

   I remember, "A few months, and in that time.  Hh, I guess I'm starting
to grow fond of you.  Your service, is unimpeachable, even my wife adores,
and respects you.  But, more than one of my men, I really need a friend
onboard.  One I can trust." he nodded, "For instance, there are things,
about my past, that the men would not, like to know."

   "You have secrets, Capitan." We all do, I nodded.

   "Yes, but there's sercets you share, and there's secrets you put behind
you.  Come here." I stopped him.  Held his shirt, then let my hand run
down. His chest, his nice, velvet covered hard flat strong muscular chest,
"If, there is, someone I can trust, onboard." I closed my eyes, and felt
down.  Let my chin up, and my mouth hang open.

   "Captain?"

   "Edmond," Hhh, damn.  Damnit.  Damn it to damned hell.  "Fuck!  Look,
this isn't, going the way I planed, but you love men, yes?"

   "I," he looked away, "Do not know."

   "You don't have love me," yet, I hoped, but I turned him, "But, huh."
Long blink, "I really need a man.  Right now." Last night, I hadn't thought
to get any, for me.  And by the time he was done with them, they're
useless, except for information.

   "Yes," he kissed me.  Just on the mouth, a brief brushing of whiskers
together, our lips didn't even make it through enough to touch eachother.
"It would be my pleasure."

   But, he could fuck them.  First, he had them fuck eachother, and
watched. Pulled rope, as she would say it, but eventually.  "Was that your
first time?" I stopped to look down, fumble with his unfamiliar pants.  At
this unfamiliar angle.  "Last night?"

   "With men?" He shook his head, "Yes," but his eyes closed, squeezed
tight, as if to cry.

   "Hh," I stopped, sat on the side of my bed.  "Go ahead," started on my
boots, "Sit down, you better tell me first."

   "When I was," he remembered, "Enlisted, the men took me down.  To show
me the cabin, my bunk, then."

   "Oh," I held up my hand, "I'm sorry.  Marina told me this, were you, one
of the 15?"

   "Both 15.  I was, taken."

   "They raped you." I shuddered.  Ashamed I ever let that happen on my
ship.

   He nodded, once, and slowly lifted his head, his face.  "But, then I. 
Mh!?"

   "You did it to." He cried in his hands.  "I do not know, what came over
me, but.  I.  Hh, then she caught us.  Me, with the man I had taken." So,
he probably got it the worst.  Her methods, are, effective.  She demands
absolute loyalty, and she gets it, without sending them to Docteo mate, but
they are still humiliated, publically.  She for all he mashisma, and
bluster is still very much a little girl, and not many men can take that.
"Hih hih hih!"

   "Hh!" at least my codpiece didn't feel tight any more, "Come on," I took
him to bed, held him.  That felt better too.  I hadn't done that, since
Marina became a woman, started pulling me off in the middle of the night.
Just to keep it from poking her legs, it was.  Just, the easiest way to
take care of it.  "I'll take care of you," I kissed his neck, and held him
tighter, as he sobbed harder.  The waves slapped the hull, which pitched
the deck, that held the bed to rock us to sleep.

   "Corruptor" {M/MF Bi Troi.  That enough foreshadowing?}

   She waited for me.  Or, she was waiting for me, in the living room.  In
Josh's lap.  Probably stole a key, and copied it, I didn't have one hidden
outside for her to fine.  "I think, our boy," she felt his cheek, "Is ready
to be a man.  Isn't that right, my boy?" he nodded.

   Okay, she's not young.  Caught a peek at her license, Real name is
Marion, big surprise, turned out to have a hard-on for Indiana Jones.  Go
figure.

   "Close your eyes." She looked up at me.  Then she was there, I saw her
shadow first, through my lids, then she lay me back.  Undressed me, on the
floor, right inside the front door.  It was closed, I didn't lock it, she
could have probably dragged me out front so they could see us, driving by
on Galisteo, and I wouldn't have kicked and screamed too much.  She doesn't
beat me, she hits you.  Anyone, in the arm, and smacks them, but hugs and
kisses as well.  Anyone, it's just the way she is, but she fucks with my
minds.  Because she knows, I told her, what I was like.

   But there's still one thing she can't do for me.  "Come here, boy." She
sucked me.  Once, just straight down, not even to the throat, then
"SHLERK!" To slick it on with her hand.  "I had to break him in for you, of
course.  She held me, I felt her knees at my hip but he didn't touch me. 
Until he did, I barely felt his buttocks split, then deeper, he slipped
right down like a rubber, and.

   Yeah, they'd been busy.  Did she fuck him?  Right here, in my own home
while I was making up that lab.  "Au!  Huhn!" He spasmed, but just sat
down, deep inside me.  She covered my eyes, I couldn't see.  "Hhhh!" He
spasmed some more, I could feel his breath, from his guts, pulled up by his
spasming diaphragm.  And she knew.  This is what I wanted.  So much, I
needed it now, if I could get wet, and drip, I probably would have gushed
in anticipation.  I had seen it.  Felt it, his eyes locked on the
exhibitionistic twins.  Well, no relation, cranked out of the same factory.
They went out, found the Plaza, met Ferrin.  Woulda loved to at least hear
about that one, but she's not a kiss, and tell kinda girl.  I don't need
girls, really got no use for them, or since I got sick of them.  All the
bullshit it takes to finally get them to open up.  Even if you pop their
cherry it ain't worth all that.

   But jeff.  "Hhhh!" Wow, he loves it.  Thought he might, just have to get
him past his inhibition, but.  All right, I admit it.  She's better'n me.
She does, all things I fantasized about doing.  It would be a lot easier if
I looked like that.  Deep olive tan, some lines from the top, but she
doesn't neglect her chest, belly, where the sun shouldn't shine, and her
thighs.  "Get up."

   "Ughf!" He spasmed.  And I puckered.  In anticipation.  Please, I ached
for it.  Knowing with a certainty she would make me.  Beg for it, for Jeff
to finally bend me over and fuck me.  "Hhh," I shivered, but not yet.  It
was too soon, she'd humiliate me for hours before I get it, go fuck
yourself, get fucked, take it like a man if I asked for it now.  She knows
what I want, and I'm not ready.  I can want it more.  I don't need it, that
badly yet.  'Now you know how it feels.'

   She laughed, kissed me.  "I would like to try your charity..." She
kissed me.  Bit my tongue.  Not hard, pinched it with her teeth, and
grinned on my lips.

   Until you cry: Now, you must try my greed.

   "Get up," she twisted my shoulders, "Turn over.  Yeah, hands and knees."
I just nodded, let my head fall, hang.  I looked.  That's not all that was
hanging, but he came up.  I saw his legs, his hard little dick.  He's not a
big guy, yeah i know.  Boys, about 11-13, depending how they develop.  I
know why and all that, but yes.  She shaved him.  Fresh I bet, then gave
him a good douche, to fuck him.  Right here, in my house, for me.  To fuck
me, feel it first, so he knows how it feels.  How to do it, the best.  The
way I like it.  She didn't make him.  Force his head down, or say anything.
"Uh!" I saw his shadow, his arms, and body coming down behind my legs, and
felt his breath.  "Hh," an instent before his cheeks split mine.

   "UHHH!" Yeah.  All right, you win.  You're better'n me, is that what you
want to read?  I'm not going to say it, you'll have to torture it out of
me, but you win.  You fucking win, all right?  He took it slow.  So slow,
so his skinny little hoodless prick felt longer.  In the rubber, she pulled
me soft, but I didn't care.  "Uhn"!  my elbows gave ot, so they knocked the
saltios, and I dodn't fucking care.  I could cross my forarms, relax, and
push to slipp my sphincter wring down the rubber, and then clench. 
"NH'huh!' Let it ripple back, spasm all by itself a couple times, but then
he pulled out.  "Uhkh!?" It popped, slammed just spasming.  "Huh!" Against
his tip, or the latex like a rubbery foreskin, the squeezed out tip rolling
around from him stirring it around, and slowly pressingit.  "Uh!" I fell to
my shoulders.  "Huh!" Uncrossed my forarms, and held them parallel, to turn
and rest my ear on.  He swiped it up, and down this time, and "Spwwwwk," I
looked back, saw it.  Hanging over his chin, from his lip, and then tongue.

   "SP!" She spat, and bit my buttock so I tensed, but then it landed. 
Spatted on the bone, and slipped down.  My crack, to the rubbery tip
slipping back up, and "UhhhHHHNNN!" In me.  Hard, deep, in a stroke just
slow enough it didn't feel like a stab.  "GhuH?" And jerked it right back
out.

   Phft!  A little air slipped out before it slammed tight.

   "Huh!" I licked drool from the corner of my mouth.  "Neh!  hh, yeah!"

   And a drop.  I nodded, hard twice for her to let my balls go from the
tight coil of her finger, and thumb so she could pinch and milk it out. 
"Uh!"

   SPAP!  Uhn!  He was back in me.  "Here,"

   "Smwq?"

   "Taste it."

   "Huh!  Mmh!"

   "HhuhHhHuH!"

   I started shaking, the rush draining, paradoxially up my shoulder in
that position, over my back, and burning buttocks then down my legs.

   EMOTIONAL RELEASE!

   "Huh!"

   Better than Orgasm.  It took, so long, to find it.  I thought I tried
everything.  Rape, incest, pedorasto, bestiality, necrophilia, everything.
You don't take it.

   She gave it to me.

   "Huhhhhh!" I just let my knees slide out, the tiles were cold, dirty,
had sharp edges, the wet exposed tip of my flaccid penis was uncomfortable
in the rough grout, yet I didn't want to move.

   "Huh, huh, huh huh!" Sounded like a running dog, took me a moment to
wonder, there were no faps, but then I felt it patter hot and sticky down
my back, buttocks and thighs.

   "Hhhhhhhh!" I caught my breath, opened my eyes, and got up.

   He kissed me, my prostate fluid still on his lips.  "Thank you," looking
me straight in the eyes.

   "No," I looked over, "Thank her." I just live here.

   Morion {Fs Ms, Flog Gang}

   "Riggers," I held up my hand, stopped them from undoing their breeches,
and codpeices, shook my head.  "Am I stripped to the breeches?  No, pull in
the nets, and clear the dock.  Prepare for landing, and signal My ship to
clear the mouth of the harbor." My spotter, told me.  From his vantage
point up by the fleecer's cabin.  "The Theotokos," my husband, returning.

   From the horizon, we had time, to watch them tack around, with the wind,
zig-zag back for the harbor.  The gunship had to backsail, the way the wind
blows, and turn about almost in place, which took the guns out of battery,
The sea side, should anyone try to sail in uninvited, the port side ones
set up on the rocky spits to protect the marina.  "My boat," I waved over
Eduardo, my favorite, and most loyal oarsman to push and pull it.  Like My
first boat, my brothers'.  Large enough for him to stand at the back, and
bend to his work.  But I turned around in my seat, even as they lowered
boats, and crews, and barrels of supplies.  And anchors, the Theotokus was
home, and my husband with them.  I'd, have to, discuss my lover, Mateo with
him.  It is not the same love, he is more like a boy, My boy, but.  "Huh!"
I still love my husband, my first love, "mi Tertio.  Hold fast!" he pushed,
brought us around alongside, so I could stand, lean out, hug and kiss him.

   "You have grown," he held my belly in his hands, his son stirring awake.

   "He is your son, he will grow as strong as me," I felt his rough jaw,
"And as beautiful as you." Pulled out the point of his beard, and twirled
it around my finger.

   "How do you know?"

   "He told me." I pulled him down, to kiss him again.

   "What is this," he felt down my arm, the tight lattice of woolen yarns,
threaded through the strap, around the ring, then spliced back through the
twist to my elbow.  Pulled out the lash, tapering as the yarns were spun,
to the end to slip back down, and fall back in the bottom of the boat.  I
shrugged, "Never got the hang of it in my left hand.  You bring women?"

   "Yes, my love."

   "Hnh!" I blinked, long, but he didn't kiss me.  "Good, have them brought
to the dock, and assemble there when we are unloaded.  I will have it ready
for them."

   "Yes, Admiralina." Okay, it was still but a small fleet, but it was
Mine. Soon, not soon enough I would be well again, and lead them.  Until
then, I would have to entrust them to my husband, but just standing in the
boat, relaxing my knees to rock with it, "Eduardo, help the men unload."

   WHWH!  I wrapped my arm around the handle of the oar, and gripped it. 
To pull, twisting in the woolen plait to swing back, and bring me about. 
Push it down, to clear the water, and twist it around again, before dipping
it back, and "Uhn!" Pulling it the rest of the way about.  Then, I started
back for the dock.

   "Riggers, strip to the breaches, and start a relay, to bring in the
supplies as they come in.  I don't want a single barrel to touch the dock,
until they are back on shore.  You hear me!?"

   "Yes, Morion." They set to work, and I pulled up a chair.  Thinking. 
"Porter," I patted an ass, he grunted, and shifted the crate in his arms.

   "Yes Morion?"

   "Bring back the whips, I don't want you to return empty handed.  Tell
the men."

   "Yes, Morion." I like the Kap.  In training, it is as good as quillions
to parry sword-cuts, and the front shades my eyes.  Blackened, like no
other, I refuse to let them polish it, it still bore the bosses from
Morti's hammer.  Like no other, but this is not a name they gave me.  Like
Oaxana, Marina, Lakappatina, Govenorra {Note, double Rs are rolled,
especially by the Spaniards, and "Kappa" is the Greek letter.  Initial of
Kaput, or Head.} nor de la Troi.  Morion is My name, the one I chose for
Me. And soon, it will be heard across the 7 seas.

   I twisted my arm, the web woven around the stock, then down, to the
bight creaking like rigging in the wind.  Pulled it tight, ready to bite
flesh, and deliver my discipline.  The boats returned, to load the women.
"Hang them on the racks," I let go to point, and stood up to kick my chair
overboard.  "Riggers, Line up.!" Topless, sweaty and tanned from fishing,
porting, rowing, and splicing.  When we had enough nets, I realized we had
women coming, and they would need to be trained.  Quite a selection, "Face
the harbor." They turned, like soldiers, about face.  "Hold your hands
together in front."

   Away from the women, I stopped them.  "Secure the ship, and have my
warship close the harbor."

   "Yes, Goven;"

   "Morion!" I beat the deck.

   "Yes, Morion."

   "Tell them, it is Morion now." They nodded, rowed back.

   "Now," I turned, "Ladies." In Greek.  All Greek women, young and old,
fat, and lean, but all good, strong Greek women.  "Where you well treated,
aboard?"

   "Yes, Morion?" They nodded, didn't answer in unison.

   "You were told, what you were enlisting for?"

   "Seamen," one answered.

   An older one, and not lean.  "You are pregnant?"

   She nodded, "Yes, madam Morion." Madam, "Kyria."

   "Of the Temple?"

   She nodded, "I was to be, priestess." Then, she was turned out, to the
streets, and wharves.

   "You are the madam?"

   "I am senior, the girls, they respect my experience."

   "Decades?"

   "Yes, Madam Morion."

   "Good, have you ever handled a whip?" Her eyes widened.  I smiled, "Not
seamen," I waved to the men, "Pirates.  Don't worry, they do not speak
Greek.  Men, need discipline, to be led.  So, the women have to learn to
lead them, discipline them."

   "I had heard," she reached up, to a striped back, but did not touch him.
I nodded, so she could feel his scars.  "That the wife of the Kaputano,
beats the men."

   "Yes," I shook my Kap, "But not to hurt them.  These are, were,
Penetentites.  Flagelletti, they beat themselves, rather than enjoy carnal
pleasures.  I had to break them of it, but it is not a lesson easily
learned.  he is strong tough.  You know, how to handle a whip?"

   "No."

   I stepped back, draped my arm behind my leg, and drew my sword for
counter-balance.  Waved her asside, silently.  She nodded, stepped back,
and I dropped the weight.  Brought the pommel over my thigh, and my arm up
the back of the other.  Lighter, faster, to reach out, and WHK!  Caress his
back shoulder to shoulder.  It fell to the deck, and rolled, so I
straightened up, dropped the blade back into it's sheathe on my thigh, and
twisted it to creek tighter as it played out through my hand.  Draped it
back over my shoulder, and turned back to the dock.  The lines on both
sides, women facing the men, facing the sea.  "Chose one," I waved at the
drying racks, "And pick a back." turned to the rest, "Pay attention ladies,
you'll all get your turn." Looking back, good.  A good hydra, multitaled
whip like a Kato9, but without the knots, or stiffening wires to make it a
scourge.

   "Morion," one of the men spoke.

   "Yes?  You may speak."

   "May I be next?"

   I slapped his tight, "Step back." He nodded, let his head fall, didn't
even tense.  "Are you ready?" My madam nodded, testing the weight, and
length.  "Now, this is a Hydra.  It is light at the tails, but doesn't bite
as deep as a single lash.  We don't want to damage them, we want them to go
right back to work, but you don't have to worry about hurting his one." I
patted his shoulder, stepped around.  Looked at him, smiled, and winked.

   To distract him, "Nh!" His eyes closed, and his head fell.  Squeezing
out tears, but couldn't hide the joy.  I felt the fullness of his codpeice,
walking around to check her work.

   "Good," I took the hydra.  "Go take care of her.  The tackle shed will
do fine." Plenty of nets, coils of rope, and so forth to curl up together.

   "Yes Morion, thank you Morion."

   "Who's next?" Another stepped up, to look over the racks.  "Have you
handled a whip before?" She nodded, biting her lip, "Yes, but only on
sheep, and goats."

   "Good," she could go up to help the old couple, perhaps even learn to
spin.  Picked a nice one, twisted from Flax.  "This is an Erculo', like
Hercules' club.  See how it doesn't taper?  So the power comes from the
stock.  Why only the end is frayed." She nodded.  I took it up, to show her
how to swing it.

   "Like a fishing pole."
   "A what?" I shook my head, "Never mind, pay attention..."