Corsets And Cutlasses, Part I: Madeline And Elizabeth's Ocean Voyage free porn video

Author note: This is the first part of a tale that might or might not be continued. It is set some time in the mid 18th century (so not strictly Victorian, but that category seemed closest). Corsets and Cutlasses, Part I: Madeline and Elizabeth's Ocean Voyage. 1. Cabin transformation "Hold still silly," Elizabeth chided me, "this is tricky and I'll have your eye out if you move like that." She waved the dark kohl pencil threateningly. "But it wasn't me!" I protested vocally, "It's the ship lurching back and forth. I am trying to be still." As if to make my case, we swayed to the side as another swell took hold of the ship. "Well try harder then." Her voice was stern, but an amused smile touched her eyes, "I'm trying to create a pretty little girl of you, not one of those enormous black and white Panda bears Miss Gaugan told us about!" I flashed agreement with my eyes - if I'd nodded I would have stuck myself on the kohl pencil - and hoped that Lizzy would get the message. I felt suddenly sad inside at the though that we would not be hearing anymore about the exotic animals of the world from Miss Gaugan. Indeed, we would likely never see her again. The sadness did not last however - how could it compete with the excitement that washed over my body as I was gradually transformed once more from my boring male self into a gorgeous and sensuous vixen? Lizzy never allowed me to look into the mirror until the transformation was complete, but having been through the process before I could imagine my impending look, and delighted in the feel of the various clothes I had already donned, and the smells of the cosmetic powders and pastes that Lizzy applied so professionally to my face. This was the third time since the long voyage had started that we had had a chance to spend some time alone in the cabin and for Lizzy to dress and transform me. We were still many days sailing from the Land that would be our new home, and so every chance was precious. There would be nothing like this to look forward to when we eventually arrived. Pushing that unpleasant thought away, I let myself become aware of my outfit, first delighting in the shallow breaths that resulted from the oh-so-tightly laced full-length corset. It fitted perfectly, gripping my hips below and pushing my meager flat chest into a small but noticeable cleavage above. In between it did its work, curving my up- and-down male body shape into an hourglass curve. It was in shiny white satin, with rose-colored lacework at the hips and bust line, and stitched too along the four long garters that held my white silk stockings in place. I relished the feel of the stockings on my smooth shaven legs. Elizabeth had insisted on me shaving them after our first dressing session - she had tried to have me wear thicker opaque stockings that time but had been horrified at the hair on my thighs. I was not overly hairy, indeed I had virtually no hair on my arms at all, but there was enough to put Elizabeth right off, and instead of a transformation I was dumped unceremoniously into the tub of hot water that Lizzy had ordered for a bath after dressing, and ordered to remove all my body hair. When I protested Lizzy just told me it would grow back before the voyage was over. Long white fingerless evening gloves bedecked my arms, and the tips of my fingers had been painted in a dark red polish instead of the more demure French manicure I was used to - Lizzy had giggled wickedly when she told me that it was what all the courtesans and bordello girls were wearing in Paris when she had visited last year. I gasped at how shocking she could be, but secretly thrilled at the thought - as well as at the sight of the beautiful long dark nails. My thrill at those words was felt even between my legs, where my hardening cock shifted as it grew against the silk of my cream French knickers. I longed to touch myself there, but as well as having had strict instructions to wait until 'Madeline' was truly ready, I had also been warned about how long the polish would take to dry. I had lost my count in my day dreaming about my outfit, and dared not do anything to disturb the beautiful dark red of the polish yet. I always thought of Lizzy as my older sister, though really she was just my step cousin - my parents had died when I was just twelve, and I had been sent to live with my mother's younger sister, a daughter from her father's second marriage. My new guardian was my aunt Dominique, and she lived with her husband and her daughter, Elizabeth Anne. Elizabeth, was several years older than my seventeen years, and was my total idol, role model, best friend, confidante, and very occasional lesbian lover. It was she who had discovered who I really was, and gradually drawn out a delicate, adorable, sexual and voracious boygirl - Madeline - from dull, boring, petite and useless Marcus Portman- Fisher. I had been liberally doused in Elizabeth's favorite perfume, and my hair, allowed to grow out since the voyage started, fell once again in light brown ringlets to my shoulders. The transformation would be completed when Lizzy piled them on top of my head and secured them in an elegant ladies style, showing of my long neck and silver chain necklace. I longed to have my ears pierced too, but we did not have the resources to achieve it safely, and we could hardly ask the ship's doctor. Lizzy had now finished applying pink blush powder to my cheeks, and now shifted closer to me on the edge of the bed, her own smooth thigh brushing against mine, and started applying a deep red lip color with a delicate brush. This was my favorite part, and my erection burned in my panties at the smell of the lip coloring, the feel of Lizzy's smooth thigh. Another swell caught the ship, and in keeping my balance my hand fell onto one of her perfect breasts, prominent and almost visible beneath the gauzy film of her camisole. Her nipple was erect, and an involuntary moan escaped her lips at my accidental caress before she pulled back quickly. "I told you to be careful with that polish you little minx!" she scolded, though again a smile played on her eyes and lips. "Remember that time when you got too excited and got clear lacquer all over a pair of my best silk knickers? Mother scolded ME for weeks about that!" "I'm sorry Elizabeth, it -" but there didn't seem to be any point in making another excuse. I'd just get some sarcastic comeback. Besides, she'd mentioned her mother, and in our current situation that might end up provoking an emotional reaction. Lizzy had indeed gone quiet, and I could see her bite her lip to stop the tears come out. It was still too soon to talk about her mother and laugh it off. She was not going to let what had happened ruin our time though, and so still quiet, she continued to paint my lips. Putting my hand on her thigh to comfort her, I let the sensations of my makeover wash over me. My mind wandered to the events that had led us, eventually, to our current situation. 2. Marcus and Madeline We had become firm friends, and virtually inseparable, from very soon after I moved into their family home. I had been in awe of my new older 'sister', having been an older child and unexposed to any significant amount of young female contact in my own home. As a twelve year old boy, albeit a rather slight and effeminate one, with small delicate features and soft curly locks, I had been captivated by Elizabeth. She was elegant and sophisticated, witty and charming and the sweetest person I had ever met. My mother had been cold and distant, my father even more so, and for the first time I had attention from someone. She took me under her wing, and we would spend hours together everyday, in our lessons from out tutor Miss Gaugan, in our free time riding in the grounds or playing cards and chess and other parlor games. We would giggle and gossip about the servants, about who slept with who, and who was attractive and who not. Thinking back now, it should have appeared odd to me that most of our discussions concerned the female staff, not the males, who figured only occasionally in our conversations, but at the time it seemed just right, and now I knew Elizabeth so much better it made perfect sense. I too had no interest in the male staff, and we talked always about this maid's pretty bottom, or how that kitchen girl showed too much (or not enough) leg or bosom. I fell totally in love with her across that time of course, as one might expect of a teenage boy becoming a young man. My hormones raged, and I discovered my sexuality over those times alone in my bed with fantasies of kissing and stroking Elizabeth's pretty face and legs, of us eloping together to live as man and wife. It could never be of course, as Elizabeth would be promised to some young suitor of her parents choosing. This also was a topic of our conversations, and we would heap scorn on the young men that occasionally would be 'happening' to join their families in a visit to the estate. On one such occasion we both agreed how much better it would be to marry the younger sister of a particularly insipid potential husband who had been inspecting his potential future wife. I joked that if she did marry him, she would at least have a beautiful sister in law, and Elizabeth shocked me with graphic descriptions of how she would caress her sister's breasts and bottom, how she would kiss her until she moaned herself to a climax. That thought and image stayed with me for weeks; and was with me during each secretive climax of my own over that time. However, it was another pastime that Elizabeth introduced which took me down the road to becoming Madeline. She would have me learn some female skills, starting with embroidery and sewing "so that I would eventually understand women, and be a better husband to the wife who was chosen for me." This seemed a great idea, though despite the fact I was becoming of an age, my aunt and uncle had not shown the slightest hint of arranging anything. Mercifully, this had spared me the ordeal of 'teas' with girls who would likely heap scorn on me just as Elizabeth and I did to the men who visited her. I also loved the idea because I was fascinated with everything that touched Elizabeth: her clothes and jewelry, her hairpins and make-up. I would see how to create dresses and other wonderful garments. Everything changed the day the make-up lessons started. Elizabeth wanted me to learn how much effort it takes to be a woman, so that I would appreciate the efforts of my future wife, but she said she needed a model to properly teach me, and that once she'd shown me, I could practice my skills on her. And so it began. Elizabeth would paint my face and transform me into a beautiful girl, at least from the head up. She began to call me her little Madeline, and I could sense a change in her when I was so transformed. In my male guise, she was a friend and idol, and unattainable romantic partner, the object of my dreams and sexual fantasies. When I was Madeline she was my confidante and close friend, her touches were more intimate and her manner became excited and urgent. My cock would pulse and quiver, rock hard in my breeches during these sessions, and the images of my pretty face and Elizabeth's flirting near availability took over even from my prior fantasies of her kissing another girl. The girl she kissed could be me, and the regular bedtime releases that accompanied those thoughts were the most intense I had even experienced. But it was more than just the fact that as Madeline I was closer to my romantic target then before. While as Marcus I was just a slight, effeminate, awkward young man, as Madeline I became beautiful, sexy, powerful and desirable. I craved more opportunities to 'practice' my make-up, to the exclusion of other pastimes, and soon Elizabeth was taking my transformations further. She would dress me in her clothes too, would arrange my hair in as feminine a style as possible, would bedeck me with rings and necklaces and spray me with perfume. My arousal would be intense as I dressed, irrespective of whether Elizabeth was in a playful or flirty mood or not. I was as captivated my Madeline as I was with the idea of capturing Elizabeth for myself. Our first overt sexual encounter had been the day she first corseted me. Older now, I was filling out a little more into a male shape, and I did not have the right curves to do Elizabeth's chosen dress justice. I was freshly bathed and ready for our afternoon, and she produced the corset as a surprise for me. I was so excited that the make-up session seemed to last forever, enjoy it though I still did. My erection was pulsing in my satin knickers when the time came for the corset, and it stood prominently against the loose fabric. Elizabeth scolded me for being un-lady like, and as if that alone was not enough to make my cheeks blush with embarrassment, her comment on my having such a pretty clitoris made me feel that my cheeks were on fire. The experience of being laced into the corset was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me. I was able to stand in front of a full- length mirror, with Elizabeth behind me gradually tightening the laces. It squeezed the breath out of me, and the shallow breaths I took became almost panting as Elizabeth adjusted the hip and bust areas, smoothing her fingers over my ass and shoulders in the process. Her own breathing was also rapid, and her face was flushed. She was dressed in a full- length filmy silk gown, which revealed the shape of her body beneath it. Her breasts were obvious and her nipples stood out firmly. I knew she was as aroused as I was, and I wanted so much to act. But she acted first. She held me by the shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. Her breath was hot on my neck and goose pimples sprang out over my body. She was so close I could feel her breasts against my back above the corset, the hardness of her nipples against my shoulder blades. She whispered almost as if talking to herself, urgently and quickly, as if unburdening herself of a huge load. She told me how hard it was when a girl liked other girls; how she knew that she would be married off to some man, when her desires were to be with a woman. She told me about her desperation to lie with a woman, but her fear of acting on it. The only girls were serving girls, who would talk and create a scandal. She told me that she knew that Marcus had wanted her, was devoted to her, but that as Marcus I was nothing to her as far as those desires were concerned. She hoped Marcus would forgive her motives in creating Madeline, in creating something beautiful for her to desire, for her to kiss, to kiss her and bring her sexual fulfillment. I let her talk, and when she was done I let her kiss my neck and caress my shoulders, my chest. I was in heaven. This was better even than what Marcus had hoped for, and feeling the incredible hardness within my silk panties respond yet more to her words and touch, I turned to kiss her on the lips. Before kissing I told her that she had found the real me, had discovered the person inside me, and that Marcus was irrelevant. Madeline did not have anything to forgive. "Tell me what to do," were the last words I uttered before our lips met. Over the next year we became occasional lovers. Little changed about most of our lives, which were spent in our usual roles. We took lessons, played tennis, rode and gossiped in our usual sex roles. But we lived for the rare chances to rendezvous as Elizabeth and Madeline. She showed me it all: how she liked to be touched and how to touch her, how to kiss with tongues and stroke her back and her legs. I learned most about her favorite thing, which was how to lick her clitoris and vagina and bring her to a shattering orgasm. When we had no time for a full transformation she would often paint just my face and lips and have me slip on a silk camisole while I licked her delicately till she came. She did not allow me to penetrate her. Not only would there be scandal if she was not a virgin when she married, but she wanted a girl, and for us to do girl things. She would bring me to my own climaxes using her delicate fingers, stroking me through my panties or gripping me directly around my shaft and caressing my balls with her nails. Sometimes she would tease my 'clitoris' with her tongue and lips, giggling and teasing every time at how undignified and un-girlish the messy outcome was. 3. Life without Elizabeth Change was bound to come, and it did so in the form of Elizabeth's parents deciding that she should attend finishing school in Paris. Of course we were both devastated, but I more so than Elizabeth, who saw it also as a great opportunity to explore her real self. I was jealous and distraught, but I had always known our relationship could not last. Exciting and unbelievable though our sex had been, my immediate worry was what fate awaited Madeline now that my mentor was to be departing. Madeline and Elizabeth exchanged farewells over a long dressing session, and we promised to write when we could. Elizabeth made me a wonderful gift of a trunk of girl things - clothes, make-up, jewelry and my beloved corset - things she had secreted from the servants, and was to be my lifeline for the two years she would be gone. I would have fewer excuses to find time free now my cousin was to be gone, and I knew that it would be a hard time. It had been the best four years of my life, and now, aged sixteen, I was about to have to deal with two years on my own and totally unprepared to play the role I would have to. My real identity could not be discovered, and had no outlet, and I felt trapped. It proved just as hard as I had anticipated. I had no free time between studies and activities I had no interest in, like learning to fence, to be a gentleman, and about my uncle's business. I enjoyed riding, and despite my lack of interest I had the speed and dexterity to make a good swordsman, impressing my uncle for the very first time. My efforts to understand his trade business were considerably less effective. I could not keep my mind on the topic for idle dreaming of silk camisoles and satin dresses, corsetry and fine silk stockings. I also began the fiasco of visits to the families of girls who might become my wife. Many were very attractive, but I found myself more interested in their dresses and shoes, the way they wore their hair or had painted their eyes and lips. Most were unattractive, however, and were plump or plain. During these meets my mind simply wandered onto the topic of how much prettier Madeline was than the unfortunate creature being touted by her mother as a desirable bauble. I imagined how much happier her mother might be to have something like Madeline to offer! The girls, for their part, were no more impressed by me. I had little to offer as a match, either economically (I was not a direct heir but only stood to have a secure job in the family business) or physically, as I was still too slim and effeminate to attract a girl's eye, and my hair was too long, falling in brown soft ringlets (I always begged the barber who visited to cut less than he might, and he agreed, with what was perhaps a somewhat knowing twinkle in his eye, a thought that was confirmed later when he began to brush past me somewhat inappropriately on occasion, as well as hold my head and neck for longer than necessary). I had no time for Madeline until I hit on a scheme to grab myself a couple of hours each week. Telling my tutor that my riding lesson had been put back an hour, while telling my riding coach that I had to leave an hour earlier than usual bought me two precious hours every Thursday afternoon. There would be hell to pay if the two tutors ever talked to each other, but since they hated the sight of each other it was unlikely to happen. The two hours gave me just enough private time for Madeline. I could get ready in just under thirty minutes, spend a wonderful hour dressed up and flouncing in front of the mirror, before bringing myself to a wonderful climax and cleaning up in time for Miss Gaugan. She was a little absent minded and did not notice those times I was a little late, and a little too short-sighted to notice any traces of eye-liner or lip color that I might have found difficult to remove in a hurry. And thus my life without Elizabeth was. We exchanged letters, but the post was unreliable and there could be no reference to Madeline in them because aunt and uncle made me read them aloud. Madeline wrote of a dull life in finishing school, learning to walk and dress and sit and all sorts of basic things, as well as how to converse with a gentleman and other social niceties. I could not wait until she would arrive home again. 4. Crime and punishment It was not long after she did indeed return that the events occurred that brought us to be half way across the world in a tiny cabin in a ship headed for another continent. Elizabeth was as stunning as ever when she arrived, and was the belle of the ball at a special dance arranged in honor of her return. She danced gracefully with any number of suitors, and even once with her cousin Marcus. We had not had a chance to talk properly since she returned, but she whispered as we circled on the dance floor how much she missed Madeline in Paris, and asked how Madeline had been? I told her that she had survived, but missed her older cousin terribly, and Elizabeth held me tighter and breathed to me that she was delighted Madeline still was part of me and how wanted to re-acquaint herself with me soon. "I have so much news from Paris," she had said, just as the dance came to a close. Our reunion happened a couple of days later, and was a bittersweet affair. Elizabeth dressed me as Madeline, and we kissed and caressed as we always had, urgently and passionately entwining our tongues and pressing our bodies together in a frantic attempt to be still closer. I used my pretty painted lips and tongue to bring Elizabeth to an incredible loud moaning orgasm, and she returned the favor, bobbing her head slowly and expertly up and down, my stiff clitty sliding back and forth between her soft lips, the underside caressed by her warm tongue, until eventually she took my gushing spurts of cum into her mouth for the first time, swallowing them down with a contented sigh. But Paris had changed her. She told me as we lay spent in each other's arms, and she was determined to take control of her life. Though she loved Madeline, Madeline would have to find her own way to become reality, because Elizabeth would be leaving to return to Paris. Her parents did not know it yet, indeed Elizabeth herself did not know how it would be achieved; she was to betrothed to a suitable bachelor within the month. All she knew was that she was going to find her own way, and that I - Madeline - could no longer rely on her. I was devastated, but at the same time I knew that I could do it. I had made it through the time she'd been away, and though I had not found a way to truly be myself, Elizabeth's determination inspired me to think it could happen. It was harder to confront the fact that our liaisons would be no more, and still worse, though at the same time thrilling and exciting, to hear about her experiences with other girls in Paris. She had slept with no less than three of the other girls in her class, this from a group of no more than twenty, and they had made the most of the lively Paris night scene, escaping from the attentions of their tutors and fraternizing with the seediest elements of the city. She spared me no details as I lay next to her, my ass nestling against her abdomen, and before long I was rock hard again, my mind a turmoil of jealousy and erotic images. Her voice imparted details quietly into my ear, and her hand gently caressed my hip and thigh. She told me of the sex toys they had used, the games of tying each other up with rope or ribbon - bondage, she called it - and sometimes spanking each other gently or more firmly. As she talked I began to stroke my stiff clitty, and I came closer and closer to orgasm as she described how they had all protected their virginity, but had penetrated each other 'another way'. I asked how, my breath shallow from the exquisite sensations of my hands and hers, as well as from the tight lacing of my corset. She told me that she would show me, as her parting gift to Madeline, and shifting her hips back, she placed a delicate hand on my ass, pushing one finger between the cheeks and toward the rosebud of my anus. I continued to hold my clitty at its base, occasionally running my fingers over its length, gripping it's head, but my concentration was on the sensation in my ass, where Elizabeth slowly pushed her finger past the muscle of my sphincter, provoking a gasp of pleasure, before insistently pressing it further inside me. A deep pulsing sensation started within me, and I felt my body respond. Still holding my erect cock, I pushed backwards to take more as my orgasm crashed over me. Though I had spent a huge load into Elizabeth's mouth, spurt after spurt of fresh cum rushed from me onto the cotton sheets, and my vocal moan died away to a whimpering murmur as the sensations subsided. "I love you Madeline," whispered Elizabeth, as she kissed my neck gently, "but now you must find your own way." "I love you too Elizabeth." I managed to breathe, still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm. It was at that moment that Aunt Dominique - Elizabeth's mother - walked into the room. All hell broke loose. I cannot even remember the sequence of events. There was screaming and shouting. Perhaps Aunt Dominique had fainted? I cannot recall. It was a whirlwind of embarrassing meetings, some that very day while I was still in my half dressed feminine attire, complete with mangled make-up from the tears and tangled hair from being dragged from place to place to be shouted at. My uncle gave me a sound thrashing, though he had either the decency or the cold-bloodedness to wait a full two days before doing so. Elizabeth fared little better, her betrothal was cancelled amid much local scandal, and she also received a severe thrashing. We were locked up for several days, while our fate was to be decided, and allowed no contact with one another. Eventually we were summoned to learn our punishment, and it was not pleasant. Neither Aunt Dominique nor her husband looked either of us in the eye as the judgment was handed down, hurtful enough for me but beyond devastating for their own daughter. It was as if we were not there, and in a way, in their eyes, we were not. We were to be exiled from the family, from the country, cut off from any inheritance, and sent to live with my other aunt, my mother's older sister. Jacqueline. Jacqueline was a religious puritanical zealot, who owned and ran a school for wayward children. She taught them the true way of the Lord and turned rebellious children into well-behaved automatons. The school was in the American colonies! And we would not be allowed to return to England and our normal lives until the evil had been punished out of us and we were deemed 'normal' once again. Elizabeth had cried and begged not to be sent, appealing to her mother on her knees, but the words fell on deaf ears, as her mother just stared over her. And so that's how we found ourselves together again, in disgrace, in a small cabin on a ship making it's tortuous way to Boston, America, and toward a life of labor and religious instruction, at the hands of a woman who I recalled as a cruel and mean individual. 5. Attacked "You look pretty as a picture once more my love," Elizabeth smiled at me as she leaned back to admire her efforts. She seemed to have overcome the emotion at the mention of her mother, and the smile was back in her eyes. "May I look?" I asked; my heart always leapt at the first glance at Madeline. "Of course cos'," she said, climbing onto the bed, "but don't be too long admiring yourself sweetie, your hand on my thigh has got me quite wet with excitement." She looked incredible, reclining on the narrow bed as she now was, and as ever her choice of words tingled between my legs. My hardness was incredibly intense, as I anticipated first how I would look in the mirror, and then the feel of my lover's embrace. It had not taken long on the journey for Elizabeth and Madeline to re-acquaint themselves, despite the unfortunate circumstances and the prior decision that Elizabeth would go her own way. Dejected as we both were, the companionship would be the only thing that helped us through the ordeal. My image in the mirror did not disappoint. My hair was now piled carefully on my head, secured with long hairpins that allowed provocative tendrils to dangle on each side, framing my perfectly made up face. My eyes were dark and smoldering - Elizabeth had gone heavily on the kohl and shadow - and were offset by beautifully coppery cheeks and deep dark red lips. My eyes traveled down the length of my reflection, lingering on the hint of bosom and cleavage created by the tightly laced corset, my satin encased arms and dark red fingernails resting gently on my newly curved hips. The laced edged garters made their way beneath the silky French style knickers, which gathered at the top of my smooth thigh, and emerged to grip the silk stockings just above my knee. I wished internally for a pair of the sensual and sexy French slippers that Elizabeth wore, complete with the daring elevated heel that did so much to accentuate the line of her legs and the sway of her hips and bottom as she walked. Maybe one day. I breathed a sigh of excitement as I took it all in, and twirled prettily to admire my tight bottom encased tightly in the rear of my knickers. If my fencing lessons had been boring, they had at least given me a killer ass. I smiled at Elizabeth as prettily as I could, and moving as sensuously as I knew how, I stalked toward her on the bed. "You have made me perfect again darling Elizabeth, however can I thank you?" I asked in my most innocent and feminine voice, tilting my head down demurely and looking up at her with my biggest eyes. Elizabeth's hand was already between her legs, moving slowly under the gauzy material of her camisole. Her nipples were still proudly visible and she had drawn her feet up toward her so that she could toy with one of her French high heels with the other hand, smoothing her fingers over the long heels as if caressing my clitty. She had been delighting in watching me admire myself, and now she wanted me. I kneeled on the bed in front of her, and leaned in for a delightful kiss, our scents merging and our lips meeting and then moving over one another with just a hint of friction and resistance from the heavy lip coloring. Our tongues flicked against one another and we both sighed contentedly at the pure pleasure of the experience. She reclined to one side, still kissing me, and I lay down with her taking one of her firm breasts in my hand and caressing it with the palm of my hand, drawing painted fingernails over her jutting nipple and delighting in the gasps of pleasure she gave up in response. She moved a smooth thigh between my legs and gently rocked back and forth as we kissed, smoothing her thigh against the underside of my erect clit encased in my panties. I snaked an arm around her neck and held her close, continuing to caress her breast with the other, though sometimes smoothing it down over her side onto her hip, round to her ass and thigh and back again. I pushed my own stocking-ed leg between hers, pushing the material of her camisole up and out of the way. She moaned into my mouth as she felt my thigh some into contact with the wetness that had accumulated between her legs. Her breathing became ragged as I rocked with her, smoothing my thigh against her, pushing the tops of my stockings and the garter grips against her most intimate regions. We were in our own perfect world, but it was about to be shattered. A sharp rap at the door interrupted us, and we sprang apart, confused. Surely nobody on the crew would dare to disturb us after we had retired early. But it got worse. Without waiting for an answer, the door crashed open, revealing the Lieutenant, Master Cameron. He looked wild eyed, ready for action, and he paused only briefly at the sight that greeted his eyes, two semi-clad females glaring angrily and confused at his boorish behavior. Blood was already rushing to my cheeks - all the officers and crew knew that among their passengers were the daughter of the ship's owner and his young nephew. If he noticed that he was looking at two fetching girls instead of the one girl and awkward gangly boy who should have been here, he made no sign. He wasted no more time. "Miss Elizabeth," he paused, regarding me, and my cheeks flushed harder, there could be no mistaking the way I was dressed, and he knew who had entered the room. I prayed that he could not see the bulge, rapidly shrinking, in my French knickers. "Young sir," he continued, "we have sighted a hostile ship to the starboard, it has struck a course for us and we cannot outrun it." Only now did we become aware of the hullabaloo outside the cabin, though the noise must have started before this interruption. A hostile ship? It surely couldn't be? We weren't war with any other seafaring nation, and these waters had been safe from pirates for many years. A ship would have had to be most bold to risk attacking a flagged merchant on the trade lanes, so far from the waters near the Caribbean where most privateers made their hideouts. "What nation is hostile to us?" Elizabeth asked calmly, apparently unaffected at appearing so scantily clad in front of this hard tough sailor. Cameron was one of uncle's best men, had worked for him for years, and would likely have his own ship when the next captaincy became available. If he survived this. "It flies a black flag Miss Elizabeth," he was matter of fact, as if this was not the most frightening thing he could say, "and my orders from the captain are to tell you to stay here, whatever you hear happen. We will be overtaken within the half hour, and we will be having to repel boarders." He looked grim, but not afraid. "Very well, Cameron," said Elizabeth, "and good luck." The blood had drained from her face, but she was kneeling upright, apparently unaffected. Cameron hesitated, was about to leave, but then stopped. "It's not for me to say," he said carefully, "but the young master might wish to retain his current appearance for the time being." I felt my blush deepen further. "If things don't go so well, then looking thus might keep him alive longer; might give him a chance. These attackers are cutthroat bastards, and he's of an age now that as a young man he might get his throat cut as soon as be looked at." "Thank you Cameron," replied Elizabeth, "my cousin Madeline is grateful for your advice." "It will likely go rough on him as a girl, on you both in fact, as you know," he looked awkward, "but better alive, is what I say, give you a chance to get away." He paused again, but finally added, "I'd wrap up a little more though ladies, just in case. Don't want to be putting ideas in their heads before they've had them themselves." Even Elizabeth's cheeks colored slightly at this, and she grabbed up the sheets to cover her lingerie. "Again, we thank you Cameron," she said, but he was already gone. We sat stunned, holding each other, for the longest time, listening to the frantic preparations of the sailors. The ship carried no soldiers, it was a trade ship alone, and though many of the men were ex-navy, their combat skills were rusty and they had few weapons aboard. If the pirates were well armed and as ferocious as rumor had it, it would be over quickly. Suddenly a new sound became audible over the noise, the terrifying screaming of the men on the pirate ship as they neared their quarry. The sound of heavy cannon sounded with a sharp clap, deafening us both for a second, and a second later another huge crashing sound, muted in our deafened state marked the ball landing on the ship. The floor shifted under the impact and the vague sounds of men screaming filtered through. One cry louder and more terrifying than the others: "Fire! Fire on deck." Within what seemed like seconds, a tearing sound filled the air, and the ship was pushed over at an angle. The pirate ship had run into us, a dangerous move if the ship was truly on fire, but required for the pirates to take control. Now the sounds of steel clashing could be heard, and somehow this woke me from my horrified inaction. "Elizabeth, put a dress and coat on," I commanded, "you heard what Master Cameron said." I jumped from the bed and pulled a jerkin from my male things, pulling it on over my corset. "What are you doing?" asked Elizabeth, as she grabbed a long woolen dress from her things. You must dress in my clothes!" "I will stay as Madeline," I replied, "but I must do something." I found what I was hunting for among my stuff and pulled it out with a strong tug. "I can use this to help them," I said, "I am not a bad swordsman," then, catching myself, "no, in fact I am an excellent swordswoman!" I pulled the saber from its sheath. "But you will be killed!" she cried, "Stay here with me as Cameron told us!" "I must try and help!" I said, as I began lacing a pair of soft leather boots on, my silk stocking-ed feet slipping easily into them. "I was less than useless as Marcus, but Madeline will not be meek and mild, she will fight for her honor, and for her lover!" I stood before her. I must have cut quite a figure. A slight and delicate boy-girl, clad only in a corset, French knickers, garters and stockings, with a sleeveless leather tunic hanging open on top of it all. Big brown eyes, beautifully made up in dark kohl and gold and brown shadow, light brown ringlets piled prettily on top of my head. To cap it all, I brandished a wickedly slim saber, one sharp edge and slightly curved, in a hand with delicate fingers sporting deep red polish on the nails. I felt like a sexy warrior princess, and strangely calm and confident. This was me, Madeline. Marcus was no more. A huge crashing explosion in the corridor dumped me unceremoniously on by back, stunned and dazed. As the smoke cleared and I recovered my wits, I saw Cameron's crumpled and burnt body in the doorway, surrounded by shards of wood and splinters that were all that remained of the door. He was dead. His pistol, cocked and ready to fire, dangled from his outstretched fingers, yards from where I lay. I began to scramble to my feet, my saber somehow still in my right arm, and looked for Elizabeth. "Lizzy?" I cried, but there was still too much smoke and debris to see very much. The wood of the door and walls was strewn over the bed where Elizabeth had been kneeling. Had I been in front of the door, I would be dead. Head still spinning, I moved toward the bed, heart rushing into my mouth. If anything had happened to her! "Well what have we here?" an ugly, grating voice from behind me said. I froze. I had my back to him, and the saber in front, and so all he could see was my exposed pretty ass, clad only in silky French knickers, and the garter straps holding silk stockings just above my knees. "Well turn around little pretty," the voice continued, "I likes to see what I've earned." I heard a clumping step closer. I let my right arm fall to my waist, hoping that the weapon would not be seen, and turned slowly to face my enemy. I put my hand to my face to push tendrils of hair from my eyes, and felt a tender spot on my cheek, where debris must have struck me. There was no pain yet, but I guessed that there would be. "Mmm, very nice," growled the pirate appreciatively, leering from behind a filthy dark beard. "Easily worth a day's hard work." As he moved forward, I brought the saber up sharply, assuming the en garde position. The point hovered about a foot from his neck, angled straight at him. "Back off," I said quietly. His face broke into a grin, cracking his face and displaying yellowed and crooked teeth. "Got some fire in ya lassie?" he snarled, clearly unworried. "Now be a good girl and put it down, or it'll go much harder for you. I'll be gentle instead of rough," he grabbed his crotch in one hand, stepping back and bringing an ugly looking curved cutlass up with the other. "Wouldn't want to scar that pretty face now would we pretty girl? You'd be not much more good than for poking from behind if I open another mouth up for ya." "I said back off." my voice was level. I was not afraid. I knew he would underestimate me for sure. This might be the only time I had such an advantage, and I intended to use it. I tensed and prepared, noticing from his quick shift of weight that he was about to move. He roared, clearly meaning to shock me off my guard, but his attack was clumsy, a heavy armed swing aimed at knocking my blade aside as he moved forward to grapple me. I moved my blade to evade the swing, and launched a lightning fast riposte attack, lunging forward with the point of my saber level with his throat. Too late he realized his error, vainly attempting to bring his blade back to block mine, but he was off balance, and a look of surprised terror flashed across his face as my blade passed through his throat, blood spraying from his severed artery. The look vanished as his eyes glazed over, dead before he hit the floor. Sounds of fighting - shouts, gunshots and clashing steel filled the background. There were no sounds nearby, however, and so I wiped my blade off quickly on the dead pirate's shirt, and stepped quickly over to Cameron. He was certainly dead, and since he would no longer need it, I quickly undid his belt and fastened it round me. I was too slim, in my corset, to need the buckle, so I simply tied the supple leather in a crude knot, and slipped my saber through a loop on my side. I picked up the pistol, quickly having checked it would still fire if the trigger was pulled, I turned to check on Elizabeth. The smoke had cleared sufficiently to see her climbing unsteadily to her feet. I covered the distance between us in a few quick strides and we fell into each other's arms. A thin trickle of blood ran down her cheek from a cut above her hairline. She looked dazed. "Can you walk?" I asked urgently, "we need to get out of here, I think the ship is taken." She just nodded, quite unable to take it in. I grabbed her hand and started toward the remains of the cabin door. Before I had taken two steps a figure loomed in the gap, another pirate. Fat and clean shaven this time, he looked at the two of us, and quickly to the two dead men on the cabin floor. A puzzled look crossed his face as he saw his fallen comrade, but he had no time for much else, for as he realized his peril and brought his fighting iron up, the ball from Cameron's pistol punched a neat hole in his forehead. The pistol had crashed deafeningly in my hand, and my wrist stung from the recoil. Lizzy, dazed before, was barely able to walk as we moved to the exit. There was no time to reload the gun, so I discarded it and pulled Lizzy into the narrow corridor. We made it onto the deck without being seen. There were sounds of fighting from the bow, and we headed for the stern, me guiding our progress through thick smoke by trailing my painted fingers along the rail at the side of the ship. Before reaching the aft deck, though, shouts went up form behind us, and I knew we'd been spotted. Worse, there were pirates now coming along the side of the ship toward us from the stern as well. We were trapped. "Take 'em alive!!!" a vicious voice cried from the front of the ship. "Be sure to take em' alive! They're part of my prize!" Feet hammered along the deck toward us. There was nothing for it. I looked into Lizzy's eyes, and motioned to the rail. She understood, and we quickly maneuvered into position, swinging our stocking-ed legs over the rail. Holding hands, we sat for a moment, contemplating the angry ocean below. "It's our only choice" I said. "I know, Mar... Madeline." she replied. Looking at me with big terrified eyes. I kissed her on the lips, savoring the flavor of our mingled lip coloring even at this moment. And as the pirates bearing down on us watched. We jumped, hand in hand, to be enveloped in the waves below. To be continued (?) Please let me know if you liked this. If so, I can write more.