Yes sisters, we have another boy to prepare for auction. His name is Andy. He is from Ar. But he tells the story so much better than I. Below is the transcript:

sluttie hears the village bar being struck 9 times. It is an hour before Gorean midnight and slaves must be in their cages.

the girl’s belly gurgles. slave is hungry. slave thinks of the cold icky porridge that might be left for her in her trough ~IF~ she’s lucky

sluttie shudders

sluttie’s tummy gurgles again

sluttie thinks back to her time on earth long ago and wonders if the Priest Kings would strike down a mere slave for inventing The Gorean Pepperoni Pizza

sluttie RUNS back to her Mistress’ home before the 9th tone is sounded, slave bells and bangles ringing furiously as she runs.

panting, the slave trots into her Mistress’ kitchen, rummages through her Mistress’ pantries and stores.

sluttie opens drawers, peers into clay jugs and casks…

Hmmm… beans, berries, onions, tuber suls, various sorts of melons, a foliated leaf vegetable called Katch, onions and honey

sluttie digs around some more…. various root vegetables such as turnips, carrots, radishes,raisins, nuts

Ah ha!

smiling, sluttie gathers together into her arms a pile of sweet juicy red larma fruit, a slab of fresh fatty tarsk back, a wheel of fine white verr cheese, a sack of sa-tarna flour and dumps it all on the kitchen table.

sluttie hums a happy Tuchuk bosk-herding tune while she pours 2 1/4 bazi tea spoons of dry yeast into 1 1/2 cups of warmed water. After sitting for 5 ehn she mixes in 3 1/2 cups of sa-tarna flour. girl kneads and folds and mixes in sprinkles of sea salt and kneads and folds some more.

sluttie dribbles in 2 big spoons of olive oil and kneads & folds, kneads & folds, kneads & folds… and wipes a bit of sweat from her brow.

sluttie coats the ball of dough with more olive oil by rolling in in her oiled hands, slave bells jingling, bracelets jangling. she lays it to rise for an ahn or so until it about doubles in size. somewhat exhausted, arms aching, girl leaves the dough to add wood to the glowing embers in the hearth.

Somewhere in the distance a bar rings 10, Gorean midnight.

sluttie selects 10 large larma and quickly slices them, saves the seeds to plant later, and minces the lush fruit with her shell knife. the girl adds spices and mashes the paste with a pestle. slave slices and minces a small yellow onion and stirs that into the thick sauce.

still happily humming, slave slices the fatty tarsk into thin strips, then cuts the strips into squares about a hort on each side. she glances at the roaring fire in the hearth.

sluttie pokes at the firewood with a stick and goes back to the counter. The Tuchuk tune she hums is now about fierce warriors riding the herd on kaliia back, one of her favorite parts.

the slave slices thin bits of creamy white verr cheese off of the wheel. she chops some, crumbles more with her fingers. Looking around to see if an Free One is near, she pops some in her mouth. Mmmm! Yummy!

Somewhere in the distance a bar rings once. It is an hour after midnight. girl glances at the oil-coated ball of dough, now risen to the proper size.

sluttie dusts the counter with fresh flour and plops the dough down

sluttie begins to roll out the dough with a wooden rolling pin, still humming the Tuchuk tune about thundering bosk herds in the pearly dawn. As the fire crackles, she finishes rolling the dough into a round flat pie 16 hort across. A big ‘un!

sluttie happily spoons the thick sweet larma paste onto the dough. she pauses to pinch the edges of the pie with her fingers all the way around making a lip. girl fills the pie so the paste is about 1/2 hort thick. slave sprinkles a bit of spices here and there. slave tosses the chopped, minced, and crumbled cheese all over the sauce evenly to completely cover it.

sluttie licks her lips.

sluttie plays at tossing the flat squares of fatty tarsk meat randomly onto the cheese, toying with the arrangement till it is almost completely covered.

girl takes a broad wooden spatula and carefully lifts the pie from the counter. bending over so that her luscious butt sticks out, she slides the pie gingerly into the smooth stone oven.

sluttie puts away the remaining tarsk and the verr cheese. she wipes the table, sweeps a bit of flour off the floor, wipes the flour from her own locked cuffs

After perhaps 10 ehn have passed, sluttie glances into the oven. Grabbing the large wooden spatula, she carefully lifts then turns the pie around carefully not disturbing it.

The kitchen starts to smell really really good!

Suddenly her Mistress and several guests walk into the main room.

sluttie scurries to kneel before them, her silks swirling around her bare legs, belled anklets and bangles jingling.

sluttie flips her golden tresses out of her eyes and says in a happy tone, “Welcome home my Mistress. Greetings Master and Mistresses. How may this girl serve You?”

The Mistresses order kalana, the Master wants mead and slave scurries to fetch them.

Quickly gathering the beverages, she pauses to turn the pie again. she runs back to her Mistress’ sitting room and deferentially performs four perfect, submissive, demure serves.

Given permission to leave, she races back to the oven just as the edges of the pie turn a perfect golden brown. she smiles. girl slides the pie out of the oven onto her Mistress’ largest serving platter. slave slices it across four times making eight beautiful pieces.

sluttie’s mouth waters as she spreads the firewood around so that the oven will cool.

“SLAVE! Bring food NOW!” the Master calls.

sluttie sighs softly but quickly calls out in a cheerful voice anyway, “Yes Master, immediately Master.”

sluttie finds four clean plates, slides two pieces onto each plate, carefully balances them on her hands and forearms like any good waitress on any planet, and sashays into the sitting room with her hips rolling as she walks.

sluttie serves her Mistress first. Then the Master. Finally the two Mistress…. All served while kneeling with outstretched arms high above her bowed head.

slave is dismissed.

“Thank You my Mistress, thank You Master and Mistresses” slave says with bowed head backing away respectfully. “It was this slave’s joy to serve You.”

Out of sight of the Free Ones, sluttie wanders sullenly around the kitchen.

sluttie spots her cold moldy porridge in a bowl on the floor. Bugs crawl around and over it.

sluttie’s stomach gurgles again. girl crawls on her hands and knees to lick at the bowl but then hears her Mistress….

“SLUTTIE! Shouldn’t you be in your cage? Go NOW!”

sluttie sighs quietly so she is not heard.

“Yes my Mistress, girl will hurry to kennel,” she chirps cheerfully and obediently.

sluttie quietly descends the steps into the dungeon, crawls into her cage, hears the lock click as the door closes behind her. her tummy gurgles as she rolls over in her tattered furs to go to sleep. 

They came in the night, the combined ships had been searching for the rogue band of hard partying pirates and their horde of gold, jewels, silver and rum oh and the captain’s “Little Black Book”.

The crew were asleep below decks, snoring loudly enough to be heard on the next island but never disturbing each other from their drunken slumbers. Even the lookout in the crows nest had slipped off into a sound, rum fuelled sleep, so there was no warning of what was to come.

Fearing that the Black Jewel crew were awake and ready to put up a fight, the raiders fired their first volley of shots into the old pirate ship, the main mast fell, taking with it the snoring drunken lookout, ropes trailed across the deck, dance balls flew in all directions, the sploder exploded, showering forged currency over land and sea, and a pirate slapped the top of an alarm clock thinking it had gone off early.

The Captain was shaken from her hammock, cursing as her ass hit the deck of her cabin and thinking this had to be the worst hangover she had ever experienced and perhaps she should ask for her money back from that dog of a rum salesman. Or maybe just slit his throat, then get the money back – twice the fun!

The second volley smashed into the side of the Jewel, damaging the lounge and scattering the toys in the dungeon, Captain Bibio, realising what was afoot, grabbed her sword and bow, the quiver of exploding arrows and raced through the ship rousing the crew.

All the hands, along with the legs, feet and other body parts, rallied to the call of their captain, womaning the canons and started to return fire. The most epic battle the Caribbean has seen since the days of Blackbeard and Jan Janszoon van Haarlem (Ok he never got to the Caribbean, but stay with us), the brave crew of the Black Jewel, firing and reloading in record time and with record hangovers.

The badly damaged ship inflicted a high price on the raiders, sinking or setting fire to most of the raiding ships. Captain Bibio stood on the foredeck, fearlessly firing exploding arrows into the rigging of the oncoming ships, topping the masts of some and even managing to land an arrow in the powder store of another causing it to explode.

It was a valiant fight, the Black Jewel crew inflicting more damage than they were taking themselves, but the ship was mortally wounded. Listing heavily, the DJ booth smashed, the stage aflame, smoke pouring from the windows (Myf had left the chip pan on again).

1st Mate Patje spread her wings, sharpened her teeth and flew towards the closest raider. Landing on the deck, she picked the prettiest pirate aboard and bit into her neck, then, realising time was short, gave the girl her phone number, licked the blood from her teeth and drew her cutlass. Fighting like a wild woman, Patje managed to kill numerous pirates and while she was at it, pull the fuses from their DJ board and cut the wiring to all their lighting system. With the raider crippled, Patje headed back to the Black Jewel, standing alongside the captain and issuing peg legs to the wounded, who wondered what that could do for a chipped nail.

Medic lamp Diesel, did her best impersonation of Florence Nightingale, tending the sick and injured, tearing her silks to make bandages, when the supply of cannonballs was exhausted, 1st Mate Marcus loaded all of DJ Lyn’s Xmas CDs into the canons and continued firing, the sharp edged plastic maiming anyone who came into contact with them or at least giving them mental scars that would never heal.

Pam swung from the remaining mast ropes over one of the ships, pink paint can in hand and a paintbrush between her teeth, intent on painting at least something pink before the battle ended, her fluffy tail streaming behind her as she flew.

A raider pulled alongside and grappling hooks dug into the rail, the first of the attackers jumped onto the main deck. From nowhere, a flame haired, jewel horned Pooka rose up between his legs, lifting him from the deck and dancing around with him on her shoulders until he was quite dizzy and exhausted, before dumping him overboard.

Leslie dove into action, boarding the raider and handing out wedding invitations and offers of an exhibition of their work at her gallery, the effect was more devastating than a visit from a double glazing salesman.

Anibrm cornered a pirate that had landed in her bar, menacing towards him, then telling him to drop his trousers and not be embarrassed as it would be so much easier in future if he got some practice showing off. He withered under her onslaught and became a nervous wreck in the corner. 2q stood protecting her wife Shiloh, swinging her guitar at anyone who dared to come close, finally killing the captain of one of the raiders by bashing him on the head with her cello.

Dancer Kaede returned from dinner to a sight of utter devastation, Anarya threw some lindens at the tip Bomb blowing a number of boarders clean off the ship and giving everyone a cough from the gunpowder smoke. Myf, who was too close to the blast, had all the hairs on her muff singed off, but thought it would save her shaving for a week.

Lyn, realising the cause was lost, started helping the crew and artists from the ship, unfortunately guiding some to the plank rather than the gangplank, a simple error, anyone could have done it. After seeing the last of the crew ashore, she gathered up her wife Anarya in her arms and carried her from the ship.

The crew disappeared into the jungle, setting light to the shops to cover their escape, leaving Marcus and Captain Bibio surveying the damage to the greatest party ship in Second Life. Bibio’s Mum, Myf, came up from the Galley with emergency provisions, rum, chocolate, a flask of coffee for Marcus and some more rum with a few fishes and a couple of loaves of bread.

As the proud ship rumbled and creaked from her wounds and with fire belching from her holds, Marcus lowered the two remaining lifeboats, the three escaping just as the Black Jewel settled into her watery grave.

The last that was seen of Captain Bibio, 1st Mate Marcus and that old slapper Myf, were two small boats, rowing away from the wreck, loaded to the brim with barrels of rum, boxes of spices and chests of treasure, disappearing over the horizon into the sunrise and the dawn of a new era.