Captain Blackboots
Captain Blackboots
By Slave Paul
A tale of petticoat piracy on the Gynarchy’s high seas – from the pirated pen of Slave Paul!
The Great Gynarchy of Barbaria could feel justifiably proud of its orderly society. The free womenfolk made the laws, and the males obeyed the laws. The system worked well and only a very careless few would dare to challenge the status quo!
The high seas were quite a different matter, however. Even in this day and age of modern, fast-paced life, piracy, it seems, was rife within the bountiful waters of the Gynarchy Empire. It was quite routine for male-crewed, cargo vessels to be suddenly boarded and ransacked by marauding gangs of cutthroat, female pirates, known colloquially as ‘The Petticoat Pirates’!
These ruthless, female outlaws did not want to conform to the rules of life back on land. In fact, it was often the case that well to do and well educated young ladies joined the ranks of these fem-desperados, just to liven up their dull lives! Most of them joined willingly; however a minority of the all-female pirate crews were “pressed” into service.
In more recent months, the illegal piracy has spread to pleasure boats as well as cargo carriers. In these instances, all of the high value items are plundered along with the inhabitants of the vessel!
The sun was setting gracefully over the still and tranquil waters of the Gynarchy Sea. It had been a long and peaceful day in these normally turbulent waters. A small, rented vessel sways gracefully to and fro, gently rocking the two inhabitants. Paul and Beth had hired the small yacht to celebrate what had been, for them, a very miserable couple of years.
The couple had been close friends since school and had watched each other grow up. Although they had remained close friends and maintained a purely platonic relationship, they always felt very close and trusting of each other. The pair had just come out of respective divorces, and were feeling jubilant, yet exhausted.
Needless to say, Paul had to give up all of his worldly goods to his ex-wife in his divorce settlement. Beth, on the other hand, was quite fortunate as she was a female, and thus stood to inherit all of her former husband’s wealth following a swift, ‘quickie-divorce’ procedure. It was Beth who decided to spend a large quantity of her newfound wealth on the week long, sailing cruise, and to invite her close and trusted, recently divorced friend along as someone who would understand the pain she herself had just been through.
The pair were into the fourth day of their heaven sent break and were feeling closer than ever before. As the night continued to draw in, they settled down for another evening of wine and fine food on the high seas. As the night-candles on the teak, deck boards flickered, the sun set over a tranquil misty seascape…
The following morning, the young pair had not yet dressed as it was only 07:00 hrs. Beth always looked extremely attractive in whatever she wore. She had long, blonde, curly hair and cherry red lips, and very warm, loving, green eyes. Paul was slowly coming to realise that he had made a huge mistake all of those years ago; he had married the wrong woman!
He returned to his cabin to get dressed before going up on deck. As he passed Beth on the way to the galley, she was busy preparing breakfast. Paul passed her by and jokingly said:
‘Aye Aye, Captain! I am going up above to check on things and inspect our heading, shiver me timbers!’
The pair laughed as they parted. Paul climbed up the wooden steps and emerged on the deck to be confronted with the terrifying sight of another vessel alongside on the starboard flank of the small yacht. It was a rough, ominous-looking, rusty wooden hulk of a ship. It seemed to resemble a very large schooner.
But most worryingly of all, it was flying the infamous and much-feared, female pirate flag – the ‘Molly Roger’!
Suddenly, without warning, a sharp, jagged sword was thrust up against his neck, and his eyes traced along the foreboding looking weapon to the pretty, dainty, feminine hand that was grasping it firmly at the other end. She was quite attractive, but nonetheless a real shock to the system! Her red locks seemed to sparkle as the sea mist began to swirl and give way to the bright unshielded sun.
She took a long, deep breath and spoke for the first time with a very well rounded and educated accent:
‘I am Quartermistress Candice. As of 07:15hrs I am taking command of your vessel and placing all of her occupants in our custody. You may now consider yourself my prisoner! HAR! HAR!’
Paul slowly raised his hands and looked around gingerly as the rest of the ragtag and motley looking female crew of the pirate ship began to cheer and laugh at how easy the ‘conquest’ had been!
Paul’s hands were swiftly bound behind him; he was very quickly subdued and offered no resistance.
Beth quickly ran up onto the deck of the seized yacht, and nearly passed out at the sight that greeted her. Another sword and a pistol were swiftly produced and thrust precariously close to her heaving, pink silk, night-gown-covered bosom!
‘Yield, Miss, or I shall claim you as a casualty!’
Needless to say, Beth offered no resistance and was taken into custody just as swiftly as Paul!
A small time later, Beth and Paul found themselves on the rough, wooden deck of the pirate ship, looking over the side at their vessel being ransacked for anything of value. Once the crew of outlaws were back on board the fearful pirate ship, one of the tatty looking maidens leant over the side of the ship with a petrol bomb and let it drop and smash onto the deck of the smaller craft. Moments later it was engulfed in flames; it did not take long for it to sink into the clear blue waters of the deep!
The Quartermistress grinned at the remnants of the erstwhile sailing-vessel and turned to look cruelly at her prisoners, before uttering:
‘How tragic! Lost with all hands, hey?’
The wooden deck of the pirate ship was now a heaving mass of chaos and activity. Paul and Beth stayed close to each other for safety, not that Paul could help his female companion much as he was so tightly bound. It would have been improper for the female pirates to bind Beth, of course – as she was a fellow female – and so she was at least able to keep her arms wrapped tightly around her supposed ‘hero’.
The chaos on deck was brought to an abrupt halt with the arrival of what seemed to be the commanding officer of this God-forsaken hulk! Beth began sobbing as she recognised the authority figure almost immediately. It was the most feared of all the outlaw female pirates, none other than Captain Blackboots herself!
She was renowned for her intense mood swings and cruelty to her prisoners. She was wanted for murder, rape, arson, pillaging, GBH, ABH, in fact anything one could be convicted of in today’s lawless waters! She stood silently and triumphantly with her hands on her hips to survey the spoils of her crew, laid out on the deck of her ship!
She was very tall and svelte. She had a mane of shiny black curls that framed her cruel white complexion. Dark piercing brown eyes gazed out, unchallenged by any sane person – male or female! She wore dark, reddish-black lipstick that made her full lips seem to puff out with disdain, and had a black mole on her check that starkly contrasted with her pale complexion. She also wore a ruffled, white lacy blouse that was fastened with old fashioned hooks, and this was then met at the waist by a huge, leather belt that engulfed her midriff. From this belt hung a huge, outdated looking cutlass and a modern, reproduction, flint lock pistol was thrust deep into the belt on the right hand side.
From the front of the belt hung her ultimate symbol of authority – her legendary, cat-o-nine-tails whip! She was famed for once whipping an entire crew of men to death for not opening a captured ship’s safe full of treasure!
Paul and Beth continued to avert her direct gaze by respectfully lowering their view to her tapered, brown cotton trousers that were tucked into her all-important boots. She was known as ‘Blackboots’ for a reason – she had the shiniest pair of soft leather, flat-heeled, pull-on kneeboots ever known to mankind. They say that a hundred slaves, working a hundred hours, could not get them that shiny! Furthermore, nobody knows if she wears socks or not inside her shiny, black boots. It is reputed that only those that are about to die get the privilege of removing her boots and feverishly kissing whatever lies within, in a vain attempt to gain mercy!
Beth did not know what would befall her; Paul was in no doubt of what awaited him, however!
Blackboots turned away to consult her Quartermistress on deck. She then turned back and approached the quivering couple, who immediately dropped to their knees in an attempt to show respect. Blackboots held out her pale, white, slender hand to Beth who immediately began kissing it!
‘No my dear, please rise from the dirty floor! It is no place for a lady in a silk nightdress!’
As Beth rose, Paul began to straighten up too:
‘NOT YOU! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!!’
He felt sure he knew what was coming now!
Blackboots then turned to Beth and addressed her more formally:
‘Welcome aboard my ship, the Mulieres sine Misericordia (‘Merciless Women’ in Latin). I am truly sorry if you were traumatised by your ordeal; please accompany me to your new cabin. You are my prisoner, but I offer you the liberty of my ship and her crew’.
Beth turned to Paul and stammered:
‘What about……’
Take him below; strip him and put him in irons! HAR! HAR!’
Blackboots had issued her first command of the day, and it was directed at Paul! The next thing he knew he was being thrust down a hatch into a dimly lit, wooden chamber with long shadows swaying in line with the ship’s movements!
He thought he had been abandoned. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter from the shadows! It was male laughter, however; a deep, booming sound that transfixed Paul with terror! He had wrongly assumed that he was the only man on the ship!
This laughing man stepped forward out of the gloom and revealed himself. He was a huge, brutish looking man with a tangled, matted beard and yellow teeth. He was wearing a tatty, leather apron and broken sandals. He grinned at Paul, who looked extremely smart in comparison!
This man was obviously free to roam the ship, but was himself a sort of dogsbody prisoner of the female crew. Nonetheless, he still had a rank, and status on board, unlike Paul:
‘I think I will have your shoes for myself, young fella me lad!’ growled the man.
He then grabbed at Paul and tore his clothes into rags! He pulled off Paul’s shoes and immediately forced them onto his own feet:
‘Thanks for the present, shipmate! Now I need to repay the debt with some nice, sparkling jewellery! Har! Har!’
The bearded brute then bent down and produced a set of heavy leg irons, before closing in on the future wearer! A small while later, and with several swings of the hammer, Paul was the unwilling new owner of a set of antique looking, leg irons!
‘There we are, me hearty! Reckon these will deter you from swimmin’ away from your problems, shipmate! Now, let’s get you back on deck for a good old fashioned bit of fun, eh? Har! Har!’
Paul was thrust upwards back out into the burning sun, and sprawled unceremoniously in a heap on the rough, wooden deck. To his utter surprise, most of the women did not even look up! They were obviously used to seeing shackled men wearing only a pair of underpants, and shivering with male fear!
Paul was made to wait for quite some time until the fearsome Blackboots returned to the deck of the ship to inspect her new quarry:
‘Tell me, Brutus, do you think he will serve us well, or will he be a stubborn, unwilling slave that needs breaking in?’
‘Oh I hope that he will be the latter, oh great Mistress, if it so pleases you?’
She grinned and put forward her black boot-toe for Paul to kiss. Paul was still transfixed with fear, and did not realise what was required of him. A moment later the boot was withdrawn!
‘It seems you have got your wish, Brutus! I am busy instructing the new Miss Beth in her duties; take him below and rack him!’
‘Yes Mistress! Right away! HAR! HAR! HAR!’
Paul was once again bundled into the gloom. This time, however, he was trussed out on the dreaded rack device. The aptly named Brutus poured himself some wine in preparation of what was sure to be a long, painful session. Paul began to plead and beg for release. Brutus grinned and mumbled:
‘I spent three hours on that thing once, and they nearly tore me apart for not kissing her boots when I was first brought aboard! Har! Har! Believe me, shipmate, it is better on this side of the rack for sure! Har! Har! Now, let us get started shall we?’
CLICK… CLICK… CLICK
ARRGH!
The scream seemed to fill the ship’s hull! All of the crew giggled at the anguished sounds of terror coming from the hold; all but one – poor Beth.
She was being instructed by her new Mistress in her new duties and responsibilities. As the day ended, the female crew began to turn in for the night. Blackboots was particularly looking forward to going back to her cabin, but not because she was tired; it was because her cabin was directly over the ship’s hold, so she could hear the screams coming from the male prisoner on the rack all the better!
Brutus, meanwhile, was working up a real sweat deep down in the hull. Paul was in for a long night of intense agony!
‘Please stop! I will do whatever she wants, please!’
‘Sorry, me old shipmate, laddy! It’s not my decision, you see? I will stop only when good Captain Blackboots orders me to; I don’t want to end up where you are! HAR! Now shut up, and stop screamin’! It is really startin’ to annoy me, shipmate!’
Dawn finally broke, and Captain Blackboots rose from her sound slumber with a satisfied grin on her face. The sound of more muffled and exhausted screams and moans was still coming from the hull below her cabin.
She did not rush her morning preparations; quite the contrary. She eventually sent a subordinate below to order the new prisoner’s long overdue release from the rack. A very relieved Brutus finally pulled the release pin and allowed Paul’s fire-filled limbs to return to some degree of normality!
He was brought before the Good Captain once again. This time he was a sweaty, quivering wreck of twitching male muscles and fear! Blackboots put forward her black boots, one at a time, for kissing. This time Paul nearly fell on them, fumbling in his chains to get close enough to kiss hard and fast at the shiny, soft leather material.
‘HA! I see a night on my rack has helped you become better at demonstrating humility, dirty slave? GOOD! We will call that a friendly warning, shall we?’
Paul could not believe his ears! If that was a ‘friendly warning’, what would a punishment be like?
‘Now let us see how you perform on more familiar feet, shall we? Bring her forward!’
Paul could just see Beth being brought forward by the redheaded Quartermistress. Beth was still resisting, as she did not know what was happening. When she could see Paul kneeling in chains on the deck as a broken man she nearly cried!
‘OK slave. Kiss her boots, now!’
Beth was now wearing a rather different ensemble than before; she looked quite like the other crew, all dressed in cotton blouses and dark trousers. She had been given a pair of black, pull on ankleboots. She was manoeuvred closer by the female brutes.
Paul had to obey, he could not spend another night on the rack! He kissed both of Beth’s boots loudly and slowly, with as much slavish respect as he could muster. The utter humiliation was totally overwhelming for him. He respected Beth as a close and trusted friend, not a power wielding superior Mistress! Things were certainly changing fast!
Beth was horrified initially at the degrading spectacle. She had never wanted any of this to happen! But Paul merely pushed on through the humiliation, and kissed hard at the deep grained, leather ankleboot material. He could feel his beloved Beth flexing her toes inside; it was such a strange sensation for both of them!
‘ENOUGH!’ shouted Blackboots loudly. ‘Let us have him taken down to the dormitory area and see what my other girls make of our captive!’
Paul was dragged away from Beth’s boots by his leg irons, and out of her sight. He was hastily pulled into the female dormitory area. All of the suspended hammock beds swayed in the, now quite rough, sea conditions.
In the corner of the room was what looked like some kind of stand? As he was dragged closer, he could see that it resembled a kind of pillory! He was rather unceremoniously forced into the kneeling position and secured tightly at the women’s mercy. The stand had a neck sized hole in which he was now very effectively confined. His arms were free to move about, though.
Directly in front of his confined head was an attached shelf with red velvet padding. The girls were busy jostling and forming a long queue. The shelf was evidently a footrest! Over the next four and a half hours he was made to lick and kiss a succession of pirate-girl, dusty and scuffmarked boots, until his mouth and tongue were red raw!
The first in line to “visit” him was the very attractive, redheaded Quartermistress. She hitched up her trousers to have her brown leather boots kissed and licked completely clean. She showed no mercy whatsoever!
‘Not good enough, lad! Couldn’t feel it at all! Cane his right foot six times, Shelly; then whip his back three times!’
Fortunately for Paul, the canings on his bare feet and back did the trick! He was no masochist and could not stand up to physical pain at all! He licked very hard and fast after that!
The next fine lass to beat her way to the head of the queue was a pretty, blue eyed, blonde curly-haired Mistress, who turned out to be the Midshipwoman! She wore a rather attractive, period-correct uniform consisting of white cotton kneesocks, that were tucked up under her pantaloons. Her feet were residing in shiny, black, flat heeled shoes with a silver buckle on each of the shoe-tongues.
Prisoner Paul deftly licked her shoes to remove any minute traces of dirt, while one of the other pirate-girls stood behind him prodding his haunches with a sharpened stick! The pretty blonde Midshipwoman stood triumphantly and said aloud:
‘What say you girls? Shall I let him have my unwashed socks?’
Needless to say the answer was a resounding and unanimous YES!
He was now ordered to remove her precious shoes with his free hands and place them on the deck. He was then presented with her greyish, off-white sock material. She plunged her right foot right under his nostrils and wriggled her pretty toes to release more of the odour up his slave nostrils! The stench was awful! She had clearly not bathed in several days and the smell went through him like a bullet from a gun!
The girls in the dorm could not get enough of this latest spectacle! They laughed raucously and began drinking and singing heartily! The young Midshipwoman had to get closer to the slave to be able to communicate with him through the noise:
‘Well, slave, do you like the smell that greets you? Are you enjoying being a women’s prisoner? Would you like to thank us for taking away all of your rights and freedom? Har! Har!’
He was on the verge of passing out from lack of sleep and exhaustion by now, but the pungent aroma emanating from the pirate-girl’s socks acted like stinky smelling salts, and brought him round sharply! He had to give a feeble response to her righteous question:
‘If it so pleases you, Ma’am, this humble prisoner is indeed grateful for its new life of pain and humiliation, and does indeed enjoy the smell of your most powerful socks, oh great Pirate-Mistress!’
‘Har! Well, you must be mad then! HAR!’
The owner of the awful socks was finally tired of tormenting her feeble foe, and retired triumphantly to her bunk.
The next visitor was one of the lowest ranking girls aboard. She was a mere deckhand. All of the deckhands seemingly went barefoot! This girl was extremely attractive and had delicate features framed by auburn locks. She spoke with a strong, Irish accent!
Her striking green eyes examined the captive male from top to bottom before closing in:
‘Well, me hearty, de ye tink ye will be able to clean some of the muck off these little buggers, then?’
Paul was rather shocked to see that she had very attractive, well-proportioned feet, however they were utterly filthy! The heavy callouses were like tough hide! He would, of course, have to attempt his best to clean the fetid, female feet or face the consequences of failure (he might get the consequences either way!).
The left foot was first. My, how he licked and licked at that foot! He was blessed with the fact that she did have very small feet at least!
After twenty minutes he was finished. Her foot was beautifully clean!
‘Well done, lad! Sure, it’s great so it is! Well, let’s be having the other one, then!’
He had forgotten about the other one! SO MUCH LICKING!
The next girl to grace his presence was quite plain and shy; she was the ship’s cook. She was wearing a long, frilly dress that came down to floor level, so he could not see her all-important feet. It transpired, after the initial introduction, that she was wearing leather flats over black cotton stockings. He was hoping that this shy and retiring maiden would let him off lightly, but no such luck!
He was ordered to remove her shoes and massage one sweaty-cotton-covered foot whilst kissing the toe area of the other one! She had quite large feet, and was busy making herself comfortable for a long session. She evidently liked all of the attention, as her stockinged toes wriggled with delight at the in-depth, massage therapy.
Several hours of forced foot worship later, the pirate girls were starting to lose interest and fall asleep. Paul had hoped that he would be released from the uncomfortable pillory contraption, but unfortunately the key remained hanging over his head, out of reach.
In the far corner of the room, Paul made out the familiar face of Beth! She had been sitting in her bunk and crying the whole time!
She finally plucked up the courage to come over and greet Paul. She bent down to his level and stroked his face before saying:
‘Oh my poor dear! Are you ok?’
Paul explained about the pain and terrible humiliating experiences he had been subjected to. Beth seemed genuinely full of sorrow on Paul’s behalf, but also quite intrigued:
‘You look so very tired; I had better let you go to sleep, my dear’.
Paul stopped her from leaving, and begged her to open the pillory around his neck so that he could get comfortable. She bent back down and placed her petite hand once more onto his face and said:
‘I had better not interfere. If I get caught helping you, we will both be in trouble from Blackboots herself! And anyway, the pillory can’t be all that bad, surely? Better than the rack, in any case, eh? Har! Har!’
He couldn’t argue with her logic; just her decision! And her ominously pirate-sounding laughter!
As honorary pirate-girl Beth drew herself up to her full height once more, she suddenly turned back and placed her black-cotton-socked foot onto the footrest in front of him, and declared:
‘You had better kiss it, just in case any of the others are watching!’
‘But they are all asleep Beth! Please don’t make me!’
‘No, I have to insist, Paul! Kiss my socks now, please!’
Paul was full of rage now, and was trembling with pain, fear and humiliation!
‘No Beth! It’s me! Remember? Don’t forget who you are; you are not one of these sadistic freaks! We are supposed to be friends!’
‘How dare you talk to me like that? GIRLS! GIRLS! You’ll never believe what this wretched slave has just said to me!’
All of the crew in the dorm were rudely awoken and stumbled out of bed as Paul watched helplessly as the sea of bare feet shuffled his way!
‘SHHH! Please be quiet, Beth! I will kiss your black socks; okay?’
The female crew assembled to watch the humiliating spectacle unfold, of former friends now reduced to Mistress and slave for evermore! Paul lowered his parched, trembling lips to Beth’s right, socked foot for the first time. A faint smell of the now all too familiar odour of unwashed, feminine foot passed up into his male nostrils. Her foot twitched with glee at the humble act!
‘Well, what do you think, slave? Is it doing it for you? Har! Har!’
It most certainly was not!
‘Well, girls, what is the procedure for reporting a mutiny?’
The Quartermistress shuffled over to Beth and answered her question helpfully:
‘Well, pirate Beth, its quite simple; just inform Cap’n Blackboots tomorrow and she will prescribe a suitable punishment for him! Har! Har!’
A short time later and Paul was surrounded by snoring once again. Had that really just happened? Or was it a sleep induced illusion?
Only time will tell!
The next day the crew were assembled on deck. The good Captain had assigned deck-licking duties for the new cabin-cum-slave boy. Paul was thus busy tongue-labouring under the sun, when he heard the ominous cry of:
‘All hands on deck to witness male punishment!’
He was quickly seized and forced into a rusty set of shackles affixed to one of the deck hatches that had been lifted out and placed upright against the ship’s mast. Blackboots could be seen approaching the trussed up slave through the square holes in the wooden deck plate. She had unfurled her cat-o-nine-tail whip!
She went up to his face and kissed him on the lips! What the….
As he was busy trying to make sense of what was about to happen, she ripped his pants off and threw them to the deck exclaiming:
‘No protection for you, slaveboy me laddie!’
Moments later, and the sentence was read aloud by the Quartermistress:
‘Slave, you have been sentenced to twenty licks of the cat! If you survive, you will then be put on punishment duty for one week and given half rations. Have you anything to say for yourself?’
He drew breath to appeal for clemency, but all the women had retired to safety before he could stammer a feeble response!
SWISH… CRACK!
OWWW! MERCY PLEASE! MERCY!
The twentieth lash was administered with such vigour it nearly cut him in half! He was a bloody wreck of a man by the time he was cut down!
It transpired that ‘punishment duty’ was licking all of the deckhands’ dirty soles clean while being suspended by the leg irons from the yardarm. In the evenings he was cut down and placed into a tight-fitting cage called a gibbet. He then had several pairs of sweaty socks tied to the face section of the gibbet and was winched aloft to the highest part of the ship. The sea breeze blew the smell from the socks into his nose all night long! He couldn’t use his hands as they were trapped in the tight confines of the cage.
One night he overheard the voices of Blackboots and Beth conspiring below:
‘It is such a pity we have to look at his ugly face, Captain. I would dearly love to have him permanently masked!’
‘Oh well, my dear, that could be arranged! We are due to dock tomorrow to take on supplies. We could go ashore to visit Miss Roberta at ‘Johnson’s Masks and Hoods of Distinction’ near the quayside, if you like?’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful Captain! Just think - he will be furious! A big rubbery latex mask! Oh, and I happen to know he is allergic to latex, so it will itch like crazy! We simply must do it, Captain!’
Paul began sobbing into the stinky socks surrounding his face.
In the morning he was winched down and released from his ‘sleeping quarters’. Once the ship had docked, he was hastily smuggled ashore by Beth and Captain Blackboots. They needed slave permits for what they were about to do in the Gynarchy. All slaves have to be licenced, and having a mask fitted requires special permits to be issued by the authorities!
It seems, however, that the good Captain had a clever way around this problem! They arrived at the grand looking shop-entrance on the seafront. The two pirate girls were dressed somewhat more conventionally, so as to minimise any attention being drawn to themselves. Inside the shop Paul was bundled into what looked like a barber’s chair and was tightly strapped in. The pretty and bubbly, young, brunette shop assistant, Mistress Roberta, began measuring the new mask wearer’s face for size.
Paul was terrified of what was about to be done! He had been to see the masked foot-fools in the local shopping centres when he was married to his cruel wife. She loved tormenting the rubbery-faced goons in the stocks for hours! Now Paul was destined to be one of them!
A large number of masks were pulled over his head, and the three women stood back looking at him.
Each time there would be a moment’s silence and then a:
‘No, I don’t like it; he looks too happy!’ would be grunted by one, or other, of them.
Paul was at least relieved to know that he would be able to remove the mask. Each time one was rejected, it was roughly pulled off! The masks were actually quite loose fitting! What a relief!
On the eighth attempt success was finally achieved. All three ladies agreed it was the best mask for the prisoner! The mask was once again removed and taken away to have words added in the design room. Other items were picked off the shelf to be affixed to the rubbery face-prison. Meanwhile, Paul was left strapped to the chair pondering the final design.
After what seemed like an eternity the mask was brought in on a tray with the grinning, female bearers following closely behind. Paul’s face was smeared with something that smelled noxious! Moments later the loose fitting rubbery mask was pulled over his head and Miss Roberta spent some time aligning it with Paul’s natural features beneath.
Then the question came from Roberta:
‘Are we absolutely sure, ladies? Once it’s set, it will not be coming off!’
The two female pirates-in-disguise agreed it was perfect, and would never need to come off again!
Paul decided he would see to that; he could feel how loose it was! Surely he would have the male strength to rip it off when his female captors weren’t looking?
But Roberta then produced a heat gun and started circling Paul’s face with it! The heat turned the mask’s matt features into a glossy finish, and more importantly began to shrink it! It was contorting all round his head! The latex was laced with a thermoset plastic that would permanently lock around his head!
Once completed, the female trio all stood back and erupted into fits of girlish laughter! It had obviously been worth wading through all of the masks to get the right one!
The ignorant slave was hitherto unaware of his new appearance. He was quite distressed enough at the tight feeling of claustrophobia that was engulfing his head! To make things worse, his latex allergy was starting to kick in! His face was on fire with itchiness! But he could do nothing about it, with his pinioned hands still strapped tightly to the chair.
The free women exchanged monies and valuables for a “job well done” as it was termed, and they released the slave in order to drag him hastily back to the ship before casting off.
The whole deck’s company exploded into fits of uncontrollable laughter at his risible, contorted appearance and constant scratching! They all began surrounding the masked slave and demanding that he stop scratching and start kissing their feet instead! One of the pretty tormentresses shrieked:
‘If you do not stop scratching, we will tie your hands behind your back, slave! Maybe we should put itching powder in his pants, hey girls? Better still, what about latex pants? HAR! HAR!’
Hours of this laughter and mockery ensued; it was relentless humiliation, and quite literally a sea of feet!
Just when Paul thought his pitiful situation could not get any worse, the crowd on deck started to disperse. In the deck boards Paul could just make out the shape of Beth, and the fearsome Blackboots approaching! Out of courtesy for her rank (and pure terror) Paul thought it wise to fall to the deck and kiss all over the boot material of the terrifyingly masterful Captain Blackboots, without waiting for her customary, female-snarled instructions to do so.
To his utter relief this seemed to be the correct action. Blackboots stood triumphantly with her hands on her hips and her long black locks swaying in the open-sea breeze:
‘You were right, my dear Beth; he looks truly ridiculous! Har! Har! Nobody in their right mind could even consider respecting this puny, male thing ever again! I love how it makes him twitch with stinging, itching pains. HAR! HAR!’
Blackboots continued to congratulate the young turncoat, Beth, and they embraced above the twitching slave on the rough deck below. Moments later Blackboots took her leave of the pair, and went below.
Now it was Beth’s turn!
‘Well, slave, how are we feeling, eh?’
A cool, mocking tone was carried across with her question. Paul did not know what to say, but pirate Beth did not seem to require an answer as she immediately proceeded to her next utterance:
‘From now on, slave, you will only address me as ‘Mistress Bethany’, is that clear you rubber faced goon?...’
Bethany? She hated that name! She always insisted on being called Beth!
‘…You will no longer be able to use my abbreviated name, as we are no longer friends. Is that understood, slave?’
‘Y…Yes, M… Mistress Bethany. Thy humble serf hears, and shall obey, Mistress Bethany.’
‘I know that you will find it hard to adjust to your new life as a slave, which is why I suggested the mask. It will remind you that things are no longer the same, and that you are only a footslave from now on! The rubbery-masked footslave of one hundred and twelve pirate women! Would you like to thank me for making that possible, slave?’
Paul was too upset for tears. He opened his mouth, but his throat was too parched to form an audible reply; so he merely puckered up and went in for a full-on kissing session of his former friend’s black leather ankleboots!
Beth was elated. She was a changed person! She took out her compact mirror from her pocket and crouched down to the embondaged serf. She held the mirror up so he could at last see what all the fuss was about!
He nearly died of embarrassment! He was wearing a black and white, rubbery skull and cross bones themed, full face, foot-fool mask! He looked utterly ridiculous!
The mask was festooned with miniature leg and wrist irons; cat-o-nine tailed whips; stocks and pillories; miniature socks and boots; and what disturbingly appeared to be a real toe-nail clipping, stitched on above his lip on the right hand side of his face! The clipping was painted light pink, the same colour that Mistress Bethany’s toes had been painted while on their little pleasure cruise yacht!
Paul could not read the mirror image of the words affixed to the mask. Beth was quite happy to enlighten him:
‘We all decided on the words, slave boy! Here are a few of my favourite ones:
Slave scum, foot dirt, foot-licker, sock sniffer, toejam-eater, Boot-fawner, Stinky, Cheesy, and Sweaty.’
(Believe it or not, these were only the words she herself had chosen! Others were on the back of the mask! Such utter humiliation!)
Months of this torment passed by!
Paul’s ridiculous face mask never did stop itching. The only solution to stop him scratching away at the latex material was to place his hands and arms in the well-worn, thick, formerly white woollen stockings of the rather rotund, female cook. They were crossed over his back so he could not take them off. It stopped him from attempting to relieve the itching tension on his face (thereby making it even worse) and if he was tempted to bring his hands close by, he was ignominiously reminded of the captive condition of his hands by the pungent aroma emanating from the stinky-stocking material now covering his fingers.
Fortunately for the crew, he could still give quite acceptable foot massages through the stocking material, following a hard day on deck!
Paul was frequently punished with the cat-o-nine-tails; long periods in the gibbet cage; weeks in the kneeling stocks; and, at one point, he narrowly avoided being keelhauled for putting a fresh ladder in the Quartermistress’s socks!
Life for him was a tawdry and miserable slavish experience that had to be tolerated.
He never forgot the imminent danger of being the official property of Captain Blackboots! Following a recent conquest, she had taken two more male prisoners on board. She had one of them taken below to, as she put it, ‘Kiss his ass goodbye by kissing my socks!’ Nobody ever saw him again!
The other man was tied with his hands behind his back and had old tights placed over his head. He was then lined up and made to walk the plank! Paul survived purely on a day to day basis, desperate to please his female masters!
Another five months elapsed. The motley crew had amassed a fortune in stolen property and seized vessels. Following yet another successful conquest of a small merchant ship the crew engaged themselves in a drink fuelled night of fun! They decided to have Paul thrown in the brig, so he did not see his female tormenters in a drunken state. Paul could hear the laughter and merriment from his below deck position as he swung from his wrists chained in irons to the timber beams.
Many hours passed by and things were quietening down. Suddenly the door to the brig burst open and a very unsteady looking Captain Blackboots came staggering in, clutching the key to his irons!
She set him loose and he plummeted to the floor:
‘Come with me slave. HICK!’
Paul was ushered to her private cabin. She sat on her bunk facing him and, looking down with an evil grin, gave an order that turned his blood to ice:
‘Slave, take off my boots and massage my feet at once!’
Oh no, he thought! The rumours about her inner footwear were so far true; the only men that have seen what lies within have all met with a sudden and premature end! Paul was going to be next!
His fingers were still encapsulated in the thick, woollen tights - which was fortunate as they obscured his trembling fingers. He firmly grasped the fearsome, shiny right boot of his Female Captain and pulled hard. The black kneeboot came off with the anticipated ‘whoosh’ sound. The same process was then repeated with the second boot.
Paul felt like he had signed his own death warrant! He was presented with a sight that nobody still alive had ever seen before – Captain Blackboots’s thinning, cotton bootsocks (black, of course). They were very damp around the toe area, following the repeated confinement in those world famous boots. Paul would not die in ignorance, at least!
The cruel murderess lay back in her bunk and allowed Paul to slowly rub her precious, powerful feet. The stockings on his hands did the usual job of absorbing the stench, and saving it for the unwilling, rubbery-mask-wearing goon to savour later.
Hours of contented sounds from the semi-conscious mistress followed. In the small hours of the morning, she suddenly rose and poured herself some wine before staggering back to her bunk. She looked down and said quietly:
‘Socks can come off now, slave’.
Paul was terrified he had misheard her order. He slowly pulled at the sock material on her right foot. It came off with some considerable force. He was presented with her pasty white, bare foot. The second sock was removed in the same way. Both of her feet were now in full view for the first time. Pasty white, thin, long toes with gloss black toenail polish. Everything about this woman was black!
Paul spent hours trying to satisfy her by slowly sucking her toes and massaging her feet.
Morning finally broke. He had been rubbing her feet all night, too scared to stop when she had fallen asleep. She awoke to find him nuzzling her bare, left foot and cradling her right foot in his stocking-covered hands. Nothing was said! She simply pushed him out of her cabin! He had got away with it after all!
Some hours later, after his regular duties of putting the socks, shoes and boots on the female crew (those that were not barefoot), he was summoned to the quarterdeck! The crew had assembled and Blackboots was there at the head of the procession, clutching a scroll?
Silence suddenly descended as the scroll was unfurled:
‘Slave, you are charged with illegally nuzzling your Female Captain’s bare feet on the night of the 20th when you should have been locked in my brig and swinging in my irons! How do you plead?’
He was stunned! It was her that had unlocked him and ordered him to tend her feet! He had no choice, he had to answer a plea of guilty!
The crew sneered at him. He knew he was in big trouble. In these lawless waters they could simply have him executed! Execution on this ship meant hanging from the yardarm in a noose made from old worn socks! Paul knew this, as he had been at the execution of his erstwhile fellow slave - the large, bearded man who had hammered his irons on all those months ago!
Paul looked up at Mistress Bethany for some support or sympathy, but none was forthcoming!
‘Well my crew, what say you? Shall he receive life, or death? Har! Har!...’
The End.
