Lesbian Pirates In the Gorgon Isles

I: Fish Stories

"My grandmother told me stories about Men," Aurora said. "She said they're the rarest creatures in the entire world."

It was late, and the bar was crowded, and Aurora's small voice barely carried over the din. Everywhere you turned here there were more women; sailors mostly, and soldiers and sellers and thieves, and of course the serving girls (some of whom were also thieves). There were a hundred styles of clothes and at least as many kinds of accents just in this one common room.

It was Belit's favorite kind of place, a cheap, rowdy dive right by the harbor, with lots of wine and lots of pretty girls, where everybody's money was good and nobody asked a lot of questions about you.

And on top of all that Belit had other reasons for bringing everyone here. She also had reasons for letting little Aurora talk, so for now she drank her wine and watched the room and listened.

Their table was full: Aurora, Belit, Morgan, Achillia, and Lee, plus several winehouse whores who had attached themselves to the group, attracted by how much gold Belit's crew was spending and how fancy their swords looked.

Achillia, a big, strong woman with wide shoulders, held two girls on her lap at the same time, and every time she spoke she jostled one or both of them, who responded with animated laughter.

"So your grandmother saw a Man then?" Achillia said. The big woman was teasing, but Aurora, who was young and had been drinking steadily all night, didn't notice her tone.

"Oh no, she never saw one. But she'd heard stories you see, from her mother and from her mother's mothers...sisters...her mothers' aunts? Anti-mothers?"

Aurora's cheeks glowed. This was probably the first time she'd had so much in one night—and it was certainly the first time she'd ever been in a seaside hole like this. Rich girls might drink, but not in places like this. Well, it won't harm her, Belit thought. Not any more than the rest of what's going to happen, at any rate.

Draining her own cup and wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve, Belit said, "What DID your grandmother tell you about Men, then?"

Aurora began ticking points off on her fingers. "A Man is a creature mostly like a woman, with arms and legs and a face and everything. But there's differences too: For one thing, they have a lot of hair in strange places. Like their chests."

"So they have hairy breasts?" Morgan said, brow pinched in thought.

Morgan was an odd woman, touched in the head and not even a good sailor. But Belit kept her because she was the most talented spear fisher anyone had ever seen—she could nail a sea bass through the eye from the high deck four times out of five.

Keeping her around meant entertaining her strange states though, and everyone else in the crew knew to ignore what she said most of the time. Aurora, not knowing any better, answered her instead.

"Oh no no no. They have no breasts at all." She paused to let this sink in. "And they're bigger than a woman, mostly," she added. "Maybe about the size of Achillia. Most of them."

Achillia flexed her arms. The girls on her lap hung off of them like tree branches.

The room grew louder and hotter with noise from all sides. Lee made a disgusted sound, trying to be heard over everything. "This is nonsense," she said. "Those were just fish stories your grandmother told you, Aurora. There's no such thing as a Man—just like mermaids or sea serpents."

"Oh, but there are mermaids," Aurora said. "Everyone onboard the ship has seen a mermaid, they were telling me. Isn't it true, Captain?"

Belit shrugged and grabbed another cup from a nearby serving girl. "Lee here is what you'd call an educated woman, Aurora—she doesn't abide by fish stories or sailor talk like the rest of us. In fact, once upon a time she had a post as an imperial librarian to the Empress herself."

Still rosy-cheeked, Aurora looked at Lee with eyes wide. "That's amazing!" she said.

Raising her cup to hide her grin, Belit said, "Oh yes, amazing. Makes you wonder how such a smart woman came to be consorting with the likes of all of us in a place like this. There's quite a story behind that, isn't there?"

Instead of answering, Lee glared. Belit didn't bother to hide her amusement, but she did check herself; she and Lee didn't get along, but they did need one another for tonight's plan to work, so their antagonism could only go so far.

Lee tried to explain two or three more times about the folly of believe in Man stories, but Aurora (now well into another cup of wine) would have none of it. "In the old days, EVERY woman knew Men," she continued. "That's what my grandmother said at least. And they knew the most important difference with them was down there."

And she put a hand between her own legs, inadvertently inventing a gesture that the winehouse girls would probably like to remember for advertising purposes in the future.

"Where they've got a...a...well it's a thing. And if you lie down with one of them, the Man stick that thing inside you, and then you can get a baby—instead of going to the temple and sacrificing to the goddesses to get pregnant like everyone else.

"Grandmother said that Men travel in big boats that come into port every 12 years, and that when they come ashore they'll stick it in whatever woman is brave enough to lie with them."

Now Morgan spoke up again: "Stick it inside you?" she said. "Inside where?"

"Do you need me to draw a fucking picture?" said Achillia.

Morgan's eyes lit up in that way they did when she finally grasped an idea everyone else had already figured out. "No!" she said. "You can't go letting some Man creature stick his whatever-it-is in there. It wouldn't be safe. You'd...I don't know. Go blind."

Belit slipped a coin down the front of their waitress's blouse as the girl bent over to fill their cups, and the server shrieked at the feeling of cold metal sliding down her dress. Then Belit said to Aurora, "So do you believe in Men then?"

"I don't know," Aurora said, pondering for a moment. "I've never been anywhere or seen anything. You've sailed all over the world, Captain; what do you think?"

Belit shrugged. "Easy question: There's no such thing."

"How do you know?"

"You say that Men come into port every 12 years to fuck women? Well, who do you suppose they're all fucking the rest of the time?"

Aurora pondered this grave query for a moment. "Each other, I guess," she said.

"Right," said Belit. "But you say that to do that they've got to take the thing that grows between their legs and stick it in somewhere. Now, where would one Man stick a thing like that into another Man?"

Everyone (except Lee) seemed to give this question serious consideration. At first no one had an answer. Then Aurora invented another gesture, this one involving her mouth and her thumb and some creative applications of her tongue. But Belit waved it off.

"If I had something growing between my legs like that I wouldn't go sticking it in anybody's mouth. You'd have to be crazy—what if i gets bitten off? No Man creature would ever risk that. And what else is there?"

The table grew almost grave as everyone pondered this riddle. No one had an answer.

"So just imagine having to go years at sea all the without a fuck in sight," Belit continued. "If there was ever any creature in the world so cursed as a Man, it would have thrown itself into the sea out of despair a long time ago. And that's how you know the stories aren't true."

Aurora's pout suggested she was disappointed in this conclusion, but she wasn't yet ready to give up.

"Maybe a Man is a different sort of creature—one that doesn't like to have a lay as often," she said. "Maybe waiting years and years is fine for most Men?"

Achillia pronounced her opinion of that by belching as loudly as she could and then standing, slinging one bar girl over her shoulder and grabbing the other by the arm, and away all three of the went upstairs.

Belit stood up too. "Then I say they're welcome to it, but I don't believe a word of it and neither should you. And with that, I've got to go exercise my captain's prerogative."

Letting a few more coins roll onto the table, Belit made sure as many women in the room as possible saw her walk through the crowded common room like she owned the place and, with hardly a word, looped an arm around their serving girl's waist and began taking her toward the stairs. The girl squawked, but it was a mock protest; several nearby women shouted rude things at her.

They got halfway there when Lee caught up, grabbing Belit elbow. Leaning in close, the other woman hissed, "Where are you going?"


"Where the hell do you think?" said Belit, and to emphasize the point she swatted the wench's backside, causing the girl to squeal.

"But we don't have time for that," said Lee. "We need to plan, for tomorrow..."

Belit waved again. "We know the plan.; everyone will be ready. Relax and have some fun for once. Oh, and watch the kid for me, would you?" She hooked a thumb at Aurora. "Let her do whatever she wants, but make sure she stays in one piece. We'll need her later."

The wine had all caught up with Aurora, who was now sliding in her chair at a dangerous angle. Morgan held her up. Suddenly, the dimwitted fisherwoman seemed to have an idea.

"Oh! I know where the Men can put it," she said.

Morgan whispered something in Aurora's ear. The girl's eyes went as wide as silver pieces. Then she scoffed.

"Ewww! NO! THAT would never work!" she said.

Belit left them to argue. Lee's disapproving eyes followed her all the way upstairs, but she slammed the door on it and that was that. Locking themselves in, Belit nearly tossed the girl onto the bed. She hit the mattress with a little bounce.

"I'll get in trouble," the serving girl said, rolling over. "I'm supposed to be working."

"You are working," Belit said, opening a purse and dumping coins on the sheets. "You're working for me. Better money than they pay you to pour drinks, yeah? All you have to do is whatever I want for one night. Easiest job you ever had."

Belit went to the room's one window. It overlooked the harbor. She checked for red sails—even though she knew there should be none yet—and, not seeing any, she closed the curtains. Lee said they needed to plan, but Belit had been planning this for years. She didn't need some stuck-up librarian telling her how to kidnap someone.

The girl, a blond, wispy thing, grabbed the coins in handfuls. "Now where does a sailor get all this money?" she said.

"I'm not a sailor," said Belit, unfastening her sword and hanging it on the bedpost. "I'm a captain. Go to the window and look at the harbor. When you see the prettiest ship out there, that one's mine: the Queen of the Black Coast."

"I know what you are," the girl said, crawling forward on the bed and unfastening Belit's belt. "You're a pirate. Queen of the Black Coast's a good name for a pirate ship. Who did you steal all this money from?"

Once the belt was gone she kept her hand squarely between Belit's legs. Belit cupped the girl's face in her own hand. "What's your name, love?" she said.

"Stella."

Of course it was. Half the whores in the world said their name were Stella. "Don't you mind yourself about what I am, Stella. Right now, all I am is your only customer. That's what you need to be thinking about. Now, off with your clothes."

She stripped all at once, with a few tugs and a few pulls, leaving her dress in a pile on the floor. No style or finesse from these winehouse girls. For that sort of thing you needed a proper courtesan. But Belit didn't care to fuck some whore pretending to be a rich woman in a fancy perfumed parlor.

She looked the girl up and down: pale, creamy, slight, a bit of fluff from end to end. But she can't be all soft, Belit thought, as she put her hands all over the girl's body, squeezing her here and there and listening to her whimper and moan at the right parts. She works in a hole like this day and in and day out and hasn't been roughed up or carried off or killed.

So she knows how to take care of herself. And she knows how to get the attention of women with money, and then get what she wants out of it. Belit cupped the girl's small breasts and squeezed as hard as she could, listening to the tenor of her cries escalate until finally cracking at a point of genuine distress. "Oww!" she said. "Not so rough..."

Rather than answer, Belit shoved her onto the bed and pushed her knees apart. Her pussy was a little pink slit, as tender and inviting as they come. She stuck one finger in at a time, testing the pliancy of the girl's lips and the smoothness of her insides. She mewed and made all the right noises.

Oh, she's a sharp little thing, isn't she, Belit thought, as she slid a third finger in (feeling the wetness at her knuckles) and watched the girl's face. Years from now the strain of the work will carry her looks away, but she'll know what to say and how to act and what looks to give. She'll just get better, and women with money to burn will never stop burning it on this one.

Belit could respect that. She licked her fingers one by one, sticking them in her mouth and sucking like she was taking the last of the meat off of a bone, looking at the girl with half-lidded eyes all the while.

Despite the prohibition against questions, the girl murmured, "Who was that with you downstairs? The kid who wouldn't stop talking?"

"Aurora? She's a royal governesses' daughter. She always dreamed of being a pirate, so she ran off with us on her 18th birthday. That was a week ago. She'd probably never left her mothers' estate more than a dozen times before then."

"You're teasing. Such stories," the girl said.

"Such stories indeed."

Actually every word of it was true, but Belit knew nobody would believe it. It was the perfect alibi: a real story that was simply too dumb to ever carry.

Belit thought shoved four fingers in so deep that the girl cried out again. "I can practically taste it on you," she said out, licking her fingers again.

The girl shook her head. "Taste what?"

"Forget it," said Belit. "Come here. My clothes next. Come on."

The girl sat up on her knees on the bed and fluttered her lashes while her light fingers undid the buttons of Belit's shirt one by one, popping them free and revealing one tanned inch of the captain's bare skin after another. Next came her boots, which the girl tugged off one a time and let drop with a thump to the floor, looking Belit in the eyes all the while. The sounds of shouting, laughing, and fighting still came up through the floor from below.

Last off came the breeches, and then Belit reclined naked on the bed, her hands behind her head, nodding to the girl, who climbed on top to straddle her and then lean down to kiss the sides of the captain's neck, her bare shoulders, her strong arms, the hard, dark nubs of her nipples, and the smooth plane of her belly. Sometimes girls asked Belit for stories about her scars, but this one didn't. That was for the best; it was the future that interested Belit, not the past.

The girl buried her face between Belit's legs, tongue and lips plying her with practiced ease, and Belit let out one—but just one—grunt of satisfaction before settling back and relaxing, eyes rolling slightly in her head, the tip of her tongue set between her teeth. This was how she liked it: no talk, no messing about, just the good, hard feeling of a smart woman doing her business.

Once this is all over and I've more gold than I can ever spend, I'll have girls like this one delivered to me every day, Belit thought, leaning back even deeper into the thin mattress and pushing her hips up to grind into the girl's face. I'll pay to have them rounded up from all the towns and cities in the world, a different one every night.

And I'll pay them all what they're worth, so that not a one can ever complain, she added. She imagined rows of the little soft things all lined up for her, lying on the sheets of a bed worth more than everything Belit owned at that age.

She'd pluck each of them like fruit off a tree and suck the juices one by one. Even if she ever got bored of it (which she doubted she would) she still wouldn't stop. She'd done too much to earn it.

When she came it was sudden, hard, and sharp, like being hit out of nowhere, but the feeling sent cool bliss through her bowels and brain. She grabbed a handful of the girl's hair and pulled her up to tell her she was done. No sense going on with it once things were said and done. Belit laid back again and let herself enjoy the sense of relief. It wasn't one she got very often.

The girl didn't leave. Of course not; why throw away a perfectly good excuse to escape pouring wine for drunken sea lushes hour after hour? She curled up in the crook of Belit's arm, laid her little golden head on the captain's shoulder, and went to sleep.

That was fine. Belit was already thinking about the morning, and what would happen next. Belit almost never stopped thinking about the future. Failure to anticipate was the kiss of death.

She woke up a few hours later. Belit always woke up right when she meant to; it was a useful skill. She dressed and buckled her sword on. The girl stirred and put a lingering hand against Belit's backside, but Belit shooed her away. Now it was time for real business.

Achillia was awake too, looking strong and rested despite the night's drinking and whoring. Belit had never seen the big woman look tired at all, in all the years they'd known each other.

Lee, it seemed, hadn't gone to bed, but stayed up and fretted. Belit was annoyed; the bookish woman wasn't much help at the best of times, and now she'd exhausted herself.

As for Aurora, she'd drunk herself into a stupor, and Morgan had taken her back to the Queen of the Black Coast to sleep it off in Belit's own cabin. That was fine. This job wasn't the place for either of them.

Other than Belit's crew—Achillia, Lee, and a half dozen other hands from the Queen—the place was mostly empty now. They gathered on the winehouse's stone veranda, overlooking the harbor. Some of these were women she'd sailed with for years; some she'd brought on only for this voyage. All believed Belit was offering them the opportunity of a lifetime, if she could back up her promises.

Even though it was morning now, the skies were still dark. At this time of year the sun never came up this far north. Belit loved it; weeks and weeks of nothing but nightfall. What more could a born thief ask for?

Down in the harbor, the ship with red sails had finally arrived. "You're sure that's the one?" Belit said.

"Yes," said Lee.

"And you're sure today's the day?"

"Yes," Lee said again. "Hang on, I think I see...there!" She pointed, more obviously than Belit would have liked. "That woman, with the white cloak and hood."

"That's Ambassador Larissa?"

"I saw her face," said Lee. "Just for a second, but it's definitely her."

"Are those other women her bodyguards?" asked Achillia. "They don't look like soldiers."

"She's traveling incognito," said Lee. "In disguise."

"I know what it means," said Achillia. "Captain?"

Belit drew her small sword, keeping it underneath her cloak. "There's five of them and nine of us. We grab her before she boards, and if the rest give us trouble you all know what to do."

Lee blinked. "I'm not going with you. I just had to point her out. That's what you said."

"Was it? I don't remember," said Belit. She pressed a knife into Lee's unwilling fingers. "You didn't think you were getting out of this without getting your hands dirty?"

Lee looked at the blade, blinking. "But...but I don't know a thing about fighting! You said I just had to tell you where she'd be. That was the deal."