Anything Butt Pirates! Ch. 01
Keywords: Butt, Ch., Pirates!, Anything, 01,
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The stigmata of Frances Copal was known among the Dominicans as the "Great Reach of God and Man" but only for a little while, before human interest, greed, and the nature of man himself brought that pinion wish down. His grand uncle, Arthur Traumata was himself a great inquisitorial master who single handedly lead 3,000 conversions into the true faith. (Triple that number of heathens he had "Relaxed" into the flames). Much as the church vexed over its loss of global influence with the rising of democracies and the fall of the Papacy in the hearts of man, so too it hungered and thirsted for new blood, new fire- Frances was to be that fire, that blood- his stigmata would bring life into an ebbing faith and vanishing order, The Dominican. The closing of the century had passed and the millennium was within reach, many believed him a telling sign of the End Of Days as prophesied in the Book Of Daniel. Their trust, hope and aspirations were deeply misplaced.
Frances Copal, by fault or fortune had been inflicted with the stigmata as a youth and as such his physical body under developed, he did not have the broad shoulders of other men, nor was he tall, agile or athletic. His skin was pale and his features were delicate. He spent much of his early life reading and studying. His parents hoped him, at best, to become an apothecary. When he wasn't stricken with the signs, he attended university, but do to illness and absenteeism only just graduated, with no honors and no prospects. He was bedridden when Fiona, a childhood sweetheart and confidant, read him his third letter of denial. It was no surprise, the interview had not gone well. "You have beautiful penmanship, however." Fiona said with less than an encouraging smile, she pointed to their positive comment at the bottom of the letter- it was an afterthought for sure.
"Fiona my dear, I cannot read today." Frances closed his eyes and waved off the letter, "Should that I never read or write again- that would be grand."
"Fe such things darling." Fiona said folding the letter and tucking it under his pillow. She checked on his bandages: "Both hands... and feet this time..."
"Nay love, the miracle is that I still the blood to pour..."
"My poor Frances!" Fiona kissed the hands that bled.
Such rejections he was used to, but she comforted him nonetheless, as she always did with tenderness, affection and passion. In their long relations she had learned how to bring him up, without causing him pain. When afflicted, the stigmata gave his hands, arms, feet, legs, sides, head and eyes a dull throbbing pain. But her touch was gentle, her skin smooth, her lips plush and her mouth warm, sweet.
Such sweet memories...
No, Frances was not a Dominican by faith or nature, there was no conviction in him- his falling into the order was by a misfortunate happenstance. A Dominican monk had been at the medicine store dispensary when Fiona had gone to get Frances' prescriptions. The Dominican followed her to him and fell at his knees at the foot of the bed. "Salvation hath come to the Somme!" Then Dominicans flooded to him, pouring out praise and salutations it wasn't long before his ego was stroked into recognition of his own misfortune as something divine. Their miscreant view of him was an easy pill for him to swallow and before to much time he'd accepted the vows of the order and entered into the monastery. In exchange, they allowed him to practice his trade there. Soon, with "healing" abundance, word spread from village to town and to city, then to the Holy See. A visitation from the Vatican by three cardinals who made inquest of the "Blessed" Dominican brought more popularity to this icon, however, Frances was no saint, no monk, no real believer- by no means of his own hand had he elected himself to the order, nor to the position the church had put him in, for his defense that must be said, in accusation, he did nothing to prevent it either, moreover he relished the attention, but he had many doubts, fears, concerns... I know this for I am he.
January 1821
They called my suffering a miracle and rejoiced in my agony surely it was no surprise that I grew biter. Arrogance is the fall of any man who is given what he did not own- that was me. Elated as I was in the beginning, being idolized by the church and no longer the shame of my family. But the marriage was short lived and I wore my welcome soon. It was decided that I should leave to the Americas and there help found an order in the floundering faithless democracy. Cardinal Palo was dispatched with me and pay notes worth 15,000 dollars in the United States. We were sent to Louisiana, an area ripe for revival and surly having no lack of sinners, heathens, and back-sliders. Also it was anticipated that language would not be an issue as I was French and the cardinal spoke Spanish as well as French.
Cardinal Palo was a lascivious bastard. He had fallen into Dutch with the Arch Bishop of Gala and was, like me, in exile. Our suffrage was decreed for a term of ten years. After which, the mission we established might restore us to the parent daises with three times the amount of money- and with it we would be allowed to return, no sooner and with no less- such were the terms of our sad situation.
"It is a money thing, Monk... all money." The cardinal pulled at his mustache and eyed me with a grin as he poured some brandy for us both. The small quarters of his room rolled and pitched with the ship and the sea. "I am good at increasing it, and with your freak show..." he winked, "Well you'll get the money in with the theatrics." he tossed the drink into his mouth and slammed the drink down wincing afterward.
A sad prospect we were, two souls surely lost with no salvation. With irony I considered that we were to become guides for others, what a farce! I took the small glass, half filled with the brown base drink. "To theatrics then!" It took 2 gulps to get mine down. My throat stung and my face tingled, I felt warm.
Palo eyed me as he poured us each another glass. "This America. It is a dangerous place." he saluted me with his glass and then downed it. I sipped mine, burning my mouth as I listened to him: " crime is rampant... and Europeans are hated, distrusted... but getting there, that is going to be a danger all to its own." he pulled out a paper from Madrid.
I could not read Spanish, and my vision was already doubling so I gestured for him to continue: "Do tell." he poured me another drink and went on.
"Pirating used to be of national interest..."
I cut him off abruptly: "Oh come-on anything but pirates now!" but my joke fell on deaf ears and he continued.
"... English and French verses each other or taking Spanish Galleons, The Dutch tradesmen and the American Privateers, but with the sequestering of slave trade and the currant treaties pirates have found their new fortunes banding together, even against their own nations- there is no honor or decency among these men." He turned the paper over and pointed at a small list of several vessels; "A Spanish Brig, A cutter from St. Agora de Cuba, A Dutch hybrid, and an American Schooner." He straitened the paper flat and folded it over tucking it away with his books. "All lost to the pirates, raped an pillaged, few of the crew and less of the passengers survived."
"We should probably pray or something." I spoke with a slur.
"Most certainly!" the cardinal laughed. He stared at me with sparkling eyes, as if he owned a secret: "Something."
"I shall remember you in my benedictions tonight." It was time to go. I pushed off the table but could not stand and so slumped back to my seat. "That didn't go so well." the room began to spin.
"Here let me help you." the cardinal said. He turned from a red blur into a fleshy one as he took my hands and led me to his bed. It was not a far distance really, I only had to lean over and I was in it. the next thing I knew was how cold I was. He had removed my brown robe and there on the bed, above his sheets, I lay naked, exposed. "You are very much like a woman Frances... do you know that?"
"That's not really proper or polite now is it?" I was struggling to gather my thoughts.
"On your stomach man." the cardinal insisted and I complied, propping my head up with my elbows and wondered where I was.
Something felt good, something quite sensuous but I could not place it. His hands pulled my cheeks apart and he got behind me to lick my anus- that was what it was! what a fabulous sensation! It carried me back to when Fiona and I would lay together in the bed and kiss each other's bodies. What a wonderful woman she was... "Fiona" I whispered.
The cardinal either did not hear me or ignored me all together. He continued to lick and stab at my anus with his tongue while his stash tickled my cheeks.
He messaged my lower back with his ringed hand and gripped my hair, which was shoulder length, tugging it back to him. "This is going to hurt a little." he spit on his hand as I turned around to ask him what was going to hurt, and rubbed his erection with it, then spit on his hand again. He pushed his finger into my ass and lubricated me with it.
I was drunk, maybe doped, and though I had never been with a man before, I knew what was coming next.
"Here." he bade me to raise my hips to him and he put a pillow under me: "Relax... take it slow... easy." he said in a soothing tone.
The ship rocked back and forth gently. He brought himself down on me as I came up. His head found my anus and with effort he pushed it in. I tried to relax my muscles, to allow entry with as little pain as necessary
He gripped my hips and pushed harder, farther, deeper. Little by little his manhood sunk into me. I felt like I was being divided in two by a wedge. The discomfort felt like I was going to the bathroom, only in reverse. I hoped that I didn't have an accident, what a terrible misfortune that would have been! Finally his fury balls came to rest against mine.
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Keywords: Butt, Ch., Pirates!, Anything, 01,