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From the Journals of Avery Locke...
🕑 Added 2019-09-09 16:27:34 +0000 UTCExcerpts from the journal of the pirate captain Avery Locke, chronicling the final days of her career from her heist of the HMS Empress to her seduction and eventual fall into sexual slavery to a Mermaid.
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From the private journals of Avery Locke, Captain of the Princess. Born Maribeth Lewis in 1675 and adopting a male persona, Locke operated in the years of 1696 to 1721. Both Locke and the Princess disappeared in 1721, last seen attacking HMS Empress, taking the ship’s haul and defacing its hull with taunts to the local British governor.
These journals were found and restored by Dr April Stone. Whilst their veracity has been confirmed, their content suggests either a fraud of remarkable quality, or that Captain Locke was suffering from a series of delusions.
~ ~ ~
April 5th, 1721
The Princess is fat and slow with gold. Even as I admire our haul’s glory, I know we must quickly part with it. Repairs to the ship shall account for a meagre amount, the rest must be exchanged so as to better be transported, or hidden away where only I and those I trust may access it.
His Majesty’s governor will surely be vexed fiercely both by my theft, and by my taunts to both him and his ilk. Perhaps in future he will better secure his gold, The Empress was all too easy to conquer, I’ve had whores in Nassau put up more of a fight. In any case, it hardly matters. Our score shall have us in comfort all our lives, so long as we are prudent.
Of course, I have no intention of abandoning this life. I shall live free and without shackles until the day I die. I shall fight and steal from those who would seek to be my masters, and in doing so perhaps rally others to follow in my footsteps. The Princess is my home, and my saviour, long past when my crew and mates are gone below, she and I will remain.
Master Mehan calls. No doubt the Captain’s discipline in once again required.
I take my leave.
~ ~ ~
April 6th, 1721
We are being followed.
Our boy in the crow’s nest spotted the beast a little past noon, as the shores of Jamaica faded entirely from our sights. Master Mehan would have it dead, yet something stays my hand.
Mermaids.
I thought them a children’s tale, an old sailor’s lie like great sea dragons and harpies and sirens. Yet at our bough swims a maiden as alien to me as she is beautiful. I have not attempted to converse with it yet and have forbidden my crew from so much as looking at the thing. Perhaps if we are lucky it shall lose interest and return to whence it came.
Despite my trepidation… I must admit the beast is oddly captivating. When first I laid my eyes upon it, it responded immediately, coiling around our bough and staring up at me. Its eyes are more beautiful than all the jewels I could steal in a lifetime, and when it raised itself out of the water, I must admit its nudity sparked my interest.
Ha. Whatever the beast’s appeal, it is hardly the first pretty face I have had to resist. Though in this instance it be due to potential danger, and not my masculine façade.
~ ~ ~
April 13th, 1721
A week has passed, the beast remains. I have had no choice but to converse with it. If it would do myself or my ship harm I had to know. Once a canon had been moved I took place in its stead, the ocean no more than a metre below me. Perhaps it was an undue risk, to move so close, but no harm befell me when at last the beast took notice.
She was slow, cautious for signs of danger, I believe she was as afraid of me as I was of her. At last she raised herself up and we spoke face to face. I had misjudged her size when first I lay eyes upon her, thinking her to be of a human height, no, she is perhaps nine feet long from head to tail, yet somehow no more threatening to me as a young girl.
She spoke eloquently, with an accent akin to the Spaniards, but when asked how she learned English refused to answer. She professed her only purpose to be curiosity, that she had seen our battle and my own part in it and become fascinated. She seemed to take particular interest in my beard, false though it may be, and attempted to play with it, which I quickly put a stop to. I demanded she leave, to which she replied with a reluctant refusal. As of now she remains with us, though she keeps her distance.
My initial fascination has developed into… something else. Speaking to her, watching her move… I have not seen such beauty on god’s earth before. Her hair is like the deepest greens I have seen sailing the coast of Cuba, her skin is soft and pale as milk, but it is her eyes that enchant me. Such deep blue pools, the like of which I know I will never see once she departs.
My fingers do their good work each night with her form in my mind. Never before have I found such delight with only my own digits in my twat. In the safety of my cabin, I may crave the touch of another woman without fear of discovery, but I fear this newest interest of mine coaxed an unduly loud cry from my lips. The crew has yet to inquire, in future I must exercise more caution when pleasuring myself, that, or adopt a more masculine moan.
~ ~ ~
April 23rd, 1721
She knows.
I was a fool to think I could fool her.
She had yet to leave us, so I spoke with her once again, she seemed in better spirits than before, more confident, she does not fear me anymore. She asked me where I came from, how I came to this life, I refused to answer, my infatuation with this beast is dangerous enough without her knowing enough about me to get closer.
She asked if many women wore beards, to fit in with the men.
I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone discovered me. My disguise has been enough to fool my crew, and those others who call themselves pirate, but that is more a testament to the intelligence of those parties than to my skill as an artificer.
I implored her to quiet herself and, to her credit, she obliged.
She… made certain comments about me when I asked how she had known. About my breasts and my hips and my lips. She asked if I would remove my beard so that she might see my face, she was certain I would be ‘pretty’. My flattery was overruled by fear of discovery at the time but now I admit it was pleasing to be admired.
She touched my hand, be it briefly. Her skin was cold and soft, her caress gentle. It makes me wonder if all of her is as lovely to hold.
Again I find myself drawing new pleasure from my holes, my fingers taking new life as my mind obsesses over her smile and her soft voice and what little I have seen of her body. She seems so gentle, there’s a kindness to her that penetrates the heart of me, I have no doubt if I took her into my bed she would adore me like no lover I have ever had. God in heaven, what delight I would feel to see those eyes staring at me from between my legs…
Forgive me, a journal is no place for such lewd thoughts. Suffice to say I have been well taken care of these past weeks, if only by my own two hands betwixt my legs.
~ ~ ~
April 25th, 1721
Her name is Laala.
It rolls of my tongue when I say it.
I do not wish her departure to come soon anymore. Her company is worth more than all the riches in our hold.
We kissed this evening.
She asked to see my face once more, and I obliged on a whim. Her voice grew low, seductive… intoxicating. She said she could smell my arousal, that she could almost taste it when I masturbated at night to her. I couldn’t speak, let alone deny this… and then her lips found mine.
She cares not for my façade, nor that I have so shamefully pleased myself to her body. She finds me fascinating; she wants to explore my body and mind. She was so soft as she pressed against me, hands over my cheeks, tongue resting over mine…
I refused her.
I cannot risk discovery, not even for her.
~ ~ ~
April 26th, 1721
I am a weak woman.
My resistance lasted until night, when I heard her sing. Such a sad song it was, with words beyond my comprehension. I could not resist. I climbed from the ship and made my way to the ram where she lay, quiet and content.
She was not surprised to see me.
Her size was never as apparent as it was as she coiled around me, hands stroking over my body until she found the buttons of my shirt. They vexed her for a moment, until I tore my shirt from my back and flung it to sea. My impatience was such that I could barely contain my lust. Our kiss was ravenous as she followed my lead, shredding my clothes and tossing them aside.
I wanted her then and there, but she stopped to admire me in the moonlight. I shivered both from cold and from trepidation as her eyes washed over me, as much as I craved to fuck her she was slow to oblige.
For a time, she marvelled at my body, toying and squeezing and weighing my breasts in her palm, giggling as I mewed at her touch. She is so much smaller than I, indeed I suspect her fellow merfolk are equally as small-chested, if only due to how entranced she was by my own bosom.
My breasts were not the only delight she desired that night. She lay me down as if I were a child, her arms strong and magnificent, and sampled every inch of me that took her interest. Fingers found my nipples, my ears, my hair. Her tongue explored every rise and fall of my chest and belly. She became intrigued by my navel for some time, kissing and sucking at it with curiosity before asking its purpose. She was hatched from an egg, of course, and had never seen such a thing before. I confess she was disappointed when she learned it’s mundanity, though less so when her attention wandered lower where more exciting treasures lay.
God in heaven her tongue… I have not felt anything like it in all my years. She was tentative at first, gentle and hesitant. Once she’d had a taste she latched onto my cunt like a limpet, if she had not come up for breath, I would have had to pry her off. It was incredible, if a tad painful as her hands squeezed my hips.
I drew blood in my attempts to remain undiscovered, I knew my screams of lust would be heard by the whole crew if they were allowed to ring out freely. A scrap of cloth from my breeches was still within reach, I gagged myself with it and clung to Laala as she delved into my sex.
She was insatiable, unyielding… I was shown no quarter as she took me as I myself had taken so many whores. I was her plaything, to be devoured and enjoyed in carnal lust. I am no young woman, but in all my years I have never experienced anything as potent as her desire.
I awoke before dawn, nestled in her embrace, pinned against the ram by her weight. For a while I was still and silent, watching the lazy movement of my Laala’s tail as she slept above me. Such a powerful thing, yet it moves with great elegance, cutting through water like a hot knife through butter. Each scale glittered in the low light as the sun began to peek through the clouds, shining like jewels as they shifted.
At last I roused her from her slumber, and was released from her embrace, albeit begrudgingly. She demands I return soon; I have no reason to resist. Walking to my cabin, naked and thoroughly spent was a touch humiliating, though the thrill of it has yet to leave me.
My Laala.
She is my true treasure.
~ ~ ~
May 3rd, 1721
My Dearest has quite the dirty tongue. Picked up from the sailors she’s watched over the years. I had not expected such a sweet thing to spout such vulgarities at me as we made love. Nor did I expect to adore the humiliation.
My naked walks to my cabin have become nightly, I fear I grow reckless. The thought of discovery sparks my arousal more than ever. It is only the danger that keeps me cautious.
Laala is a greedy lover, she demands more from me each time I climb to our safe little nook. It sometimes worries me how eager I am to oblige. At first, she expected only my submission, my body laid bare and made helpless for her enjoyment, now it is routine for me to be lashed to the ship like a figurehead and thoroughly fucked. She makes me call her ‘darling’, though she calls me things far filthier.
The names echo in my mind long after her tongue has left my flesh. Slut. Whore. Bitch. All names I have used; I have no right to complain at their use now I find myself in the role of submissive. There are others though… ones that eat away at my sense of self even now. Long after I leave her, I remain her fuckpet. Her cuntslave. Her rapetoy. How am I to command the princess whilst my mind reminds me how my true self is more concubine than captain?
I play with myself when I am apart from her. at my desk, as I plan to hide my great treasure. In my bed, as I take my leave from the crew. It happens more and more with each passing day. I cannot allow myself what I need in daylight, it is my only alternative.
Laala waits for me, even now. She swims round The Princess effortlessly, she watches the crew, she stares at me. Whenever I am on deck, I feel her eyes on me, drinking in my form, plotting new debauchery for our nights. It seems she is truly insatiable. The thought both thrills and scares me. What becomes of me when I cannot satisfy her? Will I be cast aside? Will she leave me? Will I get so much as a word or will I wake alone and nude one morning.
Pah.
Stupid thoughts, born of childish need and pathetic anxieties. I will not allow myself to be abandoned, if that ever comes to pass. I am still a pirate; I will not be cast aside.
Perhaps tonight I will not be so passive for her. Perhaps I will remind her of what I offer to fully expel any treacherous thoughts from her head, if indeed there are any.
~ ~ ~
May 18th, 1721
The bastard Mehan attempted to drive my love away this morn, it was only by chance I had departed early enough to avoid him. Laala suffered a mere scratch. Mehan will suffer more I swear!
The crew may be on his side, but I will remind them of their place!
If Laala was injured… if she were killed…
They are MY crew.
They will obey ME.
As I obey my love.
~ ~ ~
May 19th, 1721
My dearest Laala is unharmed, and in good spirits. Last night she had me in her lap, cradling me as she explored my insides with her fingers. I am as much hers as the crew is mine. She knows it all too well.
I was her plaything throughout the night, bound and toyed with for my love’s amusement. She’s taken to teasing my breasts, pulling and squeezing at them enough to hurt just right. I would complain, if it didn’t make me climax as nothing else on this earth does.
I am her property now, more than anything. More than I am a captain, or a pirate or even a woman. I am clay in her hands as she uses me. I dream of her when I sleep. I count the seconds until I am with her whenever I am not.
Last night, as I lay bare upon the bough of my ship, with my love coiled around me, I knew deep within me that I was hers. I have never felt love like this before. She fucks me, humiliates me, binds and ravenously devours my sex, and I adore it all. Every pinch of my nipples, every slap on my arse. Every cut of the rope tight against my bare, helpless flesh. Every taste of her tongue and every scrape of her nails.
Whore.
I’m her Whore.
I know what I must do.
~ ~ ~
May 30th, 1721
It is done.
My journey is at its end.
I am happy.
The Princess sank as I had intended, my crew along with her. My gold lies here in my new home, a great cavern, accessible only by water. We moved it slowly and piled it high upon the shore. Now this great treasure is my bed.
I sit as a queen as I write this, my last words to a world I care nothing for. A crown upon my head, gold coins scattered over my breasts, sipping wine from a goblet fit for a king. I chronicle the last night, the best night.
My Laala took me like the whore I am upon this pile of treasure in the light of day. It was the best sex I have had in my life, even with my beloved. If this is to be my life from now on, I welcome it with open arms and gushing cunt.
She takes me like I’m all that keeps her alive, drinking my arousal like wine. There’s nothing to hold back my screams of delight, in fact, the cave echoes me, makes my cries of lust louder by tenfold.
Laala enjoys my screams, delights in coaxing them from my throat at every opportunity. Her hands have barely left my body since I rid myself of my troublesome crew, she gropes and strokes and caresses me constantly. As it grew cold in the early morning, she coiled about me to keep me warm. Her tail could crush me if she wanted, I am helpless to stop her, but no, she is gentle and loving once her desire has passed. Her head rested against my bosom, her hands tickling my ribs. It was so peaceful I fell asleep in mere moments.
She is away as I write, hunting for fish so that we may feast before we fuck. I’m making myself ready for her as we speak. By week’s end this cavern will be filled with the scent of our love. This treasure will be marked as ours by our cum.
The water stirs. My love approaches.
To whomever finds my journal, know only this: My true name is Maribeth Lewis, and I am my darling Laala’s faithful bride. If you learn nothing else from my words, know that the lust of a mermaid is more precious than all the gold in the world. If you find yourself the object of one’s desire, I beg you, accept her with open heart. You will know the truest joy if you do.
~ ~ ~
The Journal of Captain Locke was discovered in a sea cave on the coast of South America. Locke’s remains were found atop a hoard of treasure, mostly gold, worth approximately $2.54 million. The historical community has unanimously dismissed Locke’s story of her mermaid lover, though Dr Stone noted the remains of a wreath of local flowers laid over Locke’s remains. Certain groups of individuals have taken this as proof that Locke’s mermaid is, in fact, real and continues to visit her grave to this day. However, there is no proof this wreath does or did ever exist. Indeed if it had, and in the condition described, it would have had to been lain at Locke’s grave a matter of days prior to Dr Stone’s discovery of the cave. Meaning that someone had access to the sea cave and visited her remains frequently to keep the flowers fresh.
But that would be impossible, wouldn’t it?
Comments
Bluewing
why thank you very much!
Dummy
Holy shit. This was a really, really good read! Locke's great.
