Liz's New Attire

It was not a modest outfit that Liz was given. Oh, it could be said that it was more modest than the humiliating straitjacket she'd worn for far too long; just as it could be said that a french-made dingy is more ocean-worthy than a perforated board. Both statements giving little justice to how short hanging the better product was.

In going of order from most acceptable to least, we must start at the hat. Liz indeed liked the hat; it was a majestic three-corner cover of autumn fabrics with golden stitching that made it loud but not pompous. The boots would be next. Of the same materials that Liz favored in the hat, they were practical and reasonably comfortable, but had a higher heel than Liz was used to, or approved of. The skirt--which was the sole guardian of Liz's pink fillet as no breaches or underclothes were provided--came no lower than the scowling pirates mid thigh. 'Twas cut high enough to show most of the "Fancy a jolly rogering?" ink that had been tattoo upon her leg. And that was merely the short of it, for this garment was quite only a pirate flag wrapped just barely around her hips leaving a waxing sliver of her left thigh between the fluttering cloth. Said fluttering was worrisome in it's own fashion; indeed Liz had no problem letting her colors flap in the wind, except disapproved when those colors were the only thing preserving her modesty from naval to knee. The prospect of accidentally expose her Netherlands was made a tad more mortifying as the removal of her previous crotch strap had revealed a golden ring nestled beside her clit; though this glimpse had not allowed Liz to experiment with the jewelry upon her intimates.

And on the subject of gold our tour of the most egregious pieces of Liz's new attire can finally come to its climax in the garment with which she was to cover her breasts. 'Twas not a blouse nor corset nor anything resembling a bodice. All there was betwixt Liz's perksome dairy and the eyes of anyone looking to gander was coins, a mere handful of coins on strings. The strings mimicked that of a bikini top, which Liz was several hundred years from considering modest. What is more these were only an outline of those immodest triangles, a frame to support the golden coins. The doubloons themselves were layered like scales, forming much smaller triangles that covered the nipples, areola, and only a hilt's-worth of the rest of her breast. Liz found the hardly-there that she was almost wearing to be very much provocative, if anger was the emotion it intended to provoke.

"Where be the other nine-tenths of my outfit," scoffed the perturbed pirate.

The Governess smiled gracefully. "The outfit is completed by thine delightfully grumpy face." A mischievous star fleck in her eye, she pinched the pinched the pirate's frowning cheek. "And thine sidearm." In opening a drawer The Governess revealed a devilishly handsome flintlock. She smiled again upon seeing Liz's eyes blaze with glee. "True English oak for the handle, brushed nickle wherever possible, and Damascus steel for everything else." The fine dressed woman delicately handed off the pistol to the eager Liz. "It has a slight **** just after the firing chamber for just that tad tighter fit on the bullet, but my personal pride resides on the self reloading feature."

Liz kept her finger off the cocked weapon's trigger, but couldn't resist a peak down the sights. That is until she cogitated the final statement and looked back to The Governess, thus completing a double take.

"Yes," was the woman answer to her ward's silent question. "Once thee has fired thou only need to wait for the Mundanity inside to reload it. There's no need to juggle powder and shot, just wait for the hammer to cock itself. It is intended to allow thee to focus more on combat and other excitements. The mechanisms will also adjust the ammunition when appropriate; while on my grounds, for example, it will dispense joy rather than destruction."

While Liz attempted to reckon the meaning of The Governess's final statement, her cryptic handler strapped the pistol's holster to her right hip. The placement had her leather accessory quite high on the pirate's succulent thigh to the effect that her firearm would from time to time manage titillatingly raise her skirt like an exotic islander at the flaps of a tent. More to the point, the ruthless-intent pirate would have to in fact raise her own skirt to draw. Liz cohorted words of protest and scorn in her mind to admonish such a placement but held her tongue. For one, the diaphanous woman had elegantly dodged all previous attempts at rancor. And for two, such placement was strangely savory, both as a tactical distraction and a mischievous switch. She decided to keep it as is hoping her choice wouldn't garner much lip thrashing.

"Pleased with thine new outfit."

Liz's eyes narrowed with contempt over her rouge dusted cheeks. She took her time answering, intent to show how hard it was to think of a positive aspect of the penny-cloth she'd been given. "It fits like a glove, and covers half as much."

"Quite drool," clapped The Governess with a smile that was far too cherry for Liz's liking. "May I suggest thee wander my estate now?" she said, while answering her own question by taking the scarcely dressed pirate by the hand and leading her out of the changing closet. "I stroll down there will end thee outside and chin wagging with the more wild members of my estate. Or thee can take a moment in thine room."

"I be staying here?"

"Yes, did I not mention that?"

Liz frowned anew; The Governess was quite miserly with her details. Only through persistent and direct questions had she gleaned more facts about this place. Valhalla was populated solely by woman of notable bravery, she'd managed to learn, but its guests could be of any gender. As The Mistress had already relayed, they would be expected to entertain these visitors, but The Governess also expressed that a fair amount of their time was free to them. Liz looked at the fine decorum about her. This wouldn't be a bad place to lounge and mingle with women from times past.

"Your room is the one labeled with a tart conversing atop a canon," added The Governess, uncharacteristically helpful in this instance.

"An' a righ' pre'y room I say," a cockney voice squawked from down the indicated hall. "Oy Gov?" continued the voice as it rounded the corner with it's owner it tow. "'ows dis 'en? My room's 'ardly hever more'an a cabnie', an' dis new luv got all a posh 'ne all 'erself." The woman who this voice belonged to looked as brazen as she sounded. Nearly as slender as a rapier but twice as sharp, she wore a dress small enough to be a slip with mid-thigh skirts that flared daringly via ruffles. Torn stockings and elbow gloves attempted to cover the temptatious amount of her pale skin, coming up almost as short as the smeared soot failed to mar her dagger like beauty; her eyes shown through their wreaths of smoke with pure blue fire.

"Oh Annelise," giggled the governess, "the room size, as I've explained, has nothing to do with esteem, we simply chose accommodations reminiscent of thine previous life. Furthermore, if there is somewhere else thee would like to stay, thee might entice Elizabeth that she does not want the room all to herself."

"Oy, get a nigh' in a posh flop and spend it all nibbl' a not'in' is bloody cheek init?"

An expression of warning darkened Liz's face. "If ye think I'll have ye shiver me timbers all night for not but a place to sleep, ye know nothing of what I call fair. And whats wrong with a cabinet? They be plenty fun with the right company."

"Fav, no'a bobby is she? I'm ov'a fists, but knock la'er luv and talk me mor on 'at fun you like, eh?"

"Indeed thee will be late should we decline to hurry," agreed The Governess. She led off, but not forgetting her manners turned round and concluded, "Elizabeth, do visit me in my office when your ready for thine own game." She waved departure. "Good morning."

The pirate allowed her gaze to linger on the leaving women's well-turned figures before setting out to explore this estate.