Fiona on Pirate Island

“Your drinks, madame,” said Fiona, executing what would have been a curtsey if she was wearing a dress. Evelyn, sitting in a deckchair on the beach at Pirate Island, accepted the coconut shell full of some sort of delicious tropical punch from Fiona’s platter and gave her a wink.

“Isn’t this paradise?” she said.

“Yes, Lady Evelyn.” All around them, lady pirates in sarongs and swarthy sailors with their shirts off were relaxing on the beach. They sipped rum drinks, played the guitar, frolicked in the sea, sunbathed and occasionally slipped back to the palm-thatched huts to get to know each other a little better, the lesbianness of the pirates not being entirely strict. “It’s perfect.”

“Yes, perfect is just the word. The sun. The sea. The sweet taste of total victory. The pretty girls with no clothes on who have to do everything you say. By the way, Fiona, did you know you’ve got no clothes on?”

“Yes, Lady Evelyn.” The lady missionary from the steamship was wrapped up in a hammock, squealing and begging for mercy as the pair of Chinese pirates tickled her senseless. The maharani scowled as she served drinks to sailors. The trio of New York millionaire heiresses were tied down over a rum barrel, red bottoms in the air, free for anyone to spank. All the steamship passengers - at least, those of the female persuasion, which happened to be most of them - had been stripped naked by the pirates, and pressed into service as ****-girls.

“I just like reminding you,” said Lady Evelyn, clad in a purple sarong, peeping slyly up at Fiona from within the shade of a beach umbrella. “That you’re naked, I mean. Are you naked, Fiona?”

“Yes, Lady Evelyn.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’m naked, Lady Evelyn. You’re stronger and smarter than me and you took off all my clothes.”

“And how does that make you feel, Fiona?”

“Embarrassed, Lady Evelyn.”

“Good,” said Evelyn, reaching out and idly stroking Fiona’s naked pussy, which made the pert blonde bite her lip and moan. “How long exactly is it until the sixty-nine days run out, Fiona?”

Fiona, gasping and trembling with the effort of staying in place as Evelyn twined her fingers through the blonde’s pubic hair, and gently parted her lower lips to check exactly how wet she was. It took her some effort to recall the exact number, which she said aloud.

“You’d better escape before then, haven’t you? Because Hellfire’s going to be much, much more embarrassing than this, isn’t it, Fiona?”

“Yes, Lady Evelyn.”

“Good girl,” said Evelyn, removing her hand from Fiona’s pussy and giving the now brightly blushing girl a playful slap on the bottom. “Now, go fetch the captain, and that pirate with the pearl earring, and the other one, whatshername, I think she was Siamese? And the bottle of coconut massage oil. And the nipple clamps. And my favourite big rubber strap-on, you know the one.”

“Yes, Lady Evelyn. Right away.”