by Louisa Trent
"Do you plan to stay overnight?"
"Yes. At the home of my friend."
"And I will stay with the servants ... help out in the kitchen?"
"It's not by my choice, but I see no respectable way around it," he admitted. Then, "Finished on the commode?" he asked.
"Yes," she said in a small voice.
"Good," he said amicably. "Now up you go."
When she stood, he slid onto his back onto the Italian tiled floor of the W.C. "Come over me."
"I beg your pardon?"
He explained: "I would like to look up inside you. This is the best perspective. Now come. Separate your legs above my eyes. Don't be bashful."
"It's only a cunt, like any other cunt," she groused, but stepping over his head.
"Oh, but it's not. It's your cunt, and that makes it special. I want to see it from every angle. Now, split your legs wider."
She did, but he knew she didn't like doing it.
From his prone position, he reached up and opened the folds with two fingers. "The passage is incredible. And the clitoris is as large as I have ever seen on a woman. Like a little penis. I longed to do this to you when you were eighteen. I longed to have you take down your drawers, and simply look at the wonder of you. I would not have touched you or interfered with you in any way; I would only have looked. But you would have been shocked. Such as innocent you were."
"I owe that innocence to you. You sheltered me from the harder realities of the wharves."
"I tried anyway. And failed dismally." He moved a finger into the innocent maid, who had become far too experienced.
Given her occupation, Harry's muscles were inexplicably tight, that unaccounted-for embarrassment again.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, and gave her a second digit. Quickly. He had learned as a sea captain that when exerting authority through discipline, such as when using the rattan on the back of a man who has disobeyed orders, it is far more merciful to inflict pain swiftly, rather than cruelly offer out an artificial hope of reprieve. The same principle applied here. Embarrassed or not, he would have this from her; no sense pretending he would back down from his demands.
Had she been his wife, naturally, he would have made concessions to her bashfulness. But she was not his wife, she was his whore, and men did not go easy on their whores, especially whores with histories of disobedience. Give Harry an inch, and she would try to take over. This he could not allow.
Last night, Harry had behaved mutinously. She had been willful and spiteful ... she had very nearly bitten off the head of his cock. She had to understand he would not tolerate disobedience. He expected her to do as she was told, both in and out of bed, and he would use every means at his disposal to accomplice that goal.
Even her humiliation.
"One more to go," he said, pushing a third finger up inside her. That accomplished, he slid out a bit from between her legs, so that his shoulders and head were clear, and he could now look up at her from his position on his back on the floor.
Her hands went to cover her mons.
"This is most unseemly," she said, as he spread her vagina open.
"Think of something else," he said sympathetically, but nevertheless continuing to stretch her. When her cradling hands interfered with what he was doing, he told her, "Arms behind your back, girl."
When she did as she was told, giving her no quarter, he thrust his fingers up inside her. Hard. Then pressed down directly on top of the clitoris, before rubbing the nub back and forth.
Harry started to writhe, embarrassment conflicting with pleasure.
"Move up and down over the fingers," he ordered.
Looking away, she rode up and down over his fingers, her knees bending and straightening, her large breasts bouncing. Her nipples had reddened and lengthened; they stuck straight out.
"That's right, that's right. Ride them," he coaxed, smoothing the palm of his free hand over her buttock. He feathered a finger down the crevice, and then making up his mind, dipped his middle finger in up to the knuckle.
"Yes?" he asked, now that both openings were plugged.
"I told you yes in the beginning, did I not?"
"You did, but after the fight you put up last night I thought perhaps you had changed your mind."
"You needn't worry. You will get your money's worth from me."
"Very well. Then, gallop like a little mare."
She went up and down at a fine clip, until she cried out, "It's happening."
"Not yet."
"What do you mean, not yet?" she screeched. "Am I lamp to be turned off and on?"
"Not yet, I say."
She began to struggle, her body thrashing.
He'd had quite enough of her antics! "Settle down, girl, or you won't get it at all."
Withdrawing his digits from her orifices, he picked her up and set her in the tub.
In a pre-climactic daze, she stood docilely as he ran the warm water enough to cover her ankles. After removing the bandage on her inner thigh, he stepped in with her, behind her. Soaping a wet linen, he squeezed it over her shoulders, smiling at the sight of the bubbles on her fair skin, so pale in comparison to his own swarthy tones.
Once she was soaped, he dropped the linen and ran his hands over her. She squirmed, wet and wiggling, but didn't attempt escape. Needing release, she was pliant under his big palms as he lathered her red-tipped breasts, her underarms with their fine filigree of red hair, between her legs, drawing out the washing when he came to her slit, tarrying a long while over those swollen folds. He washed the round cheeks of her buttocks, and in between too, all at a leisured pace, no longer needing to dodge knees and elbows and fists, as he'd had to the night before. This was a different Harry, a more subdued Harry.
Though her chin was dipped, her head submissively lowered, her attitude quieted, he continued to keep a restraining arm around her, as he took his turn washing up.
"That's right. Stay, just like that," he soothed.
Still holding her firmly, he adjusted his arm so that he could move his thumb back and forth over her very distended nipple, his fingernail scratching the hardened tip.
"Just so," he murmured, when her body gave over. There was naught she wouldn't do to gain that orgasm he had withheld.
Easing his restraining arm away, he bent his knees to cup the water, rinsing them both.
Afterwards, his hand slid across her flat belly, moving freely between her legs, back and forth between her legs, again and again, his thumb deftly separating the lips of her engorged sex, so plump and wet from her warm bath, and from the heat of her own arousal.
"You're creamy, sweetheart," he offered, an off-color whisper in her ear, his thumb going up inside, easily up inside, no resistance whatsoever now, and no argument either, letting him diddle her as he might.
He concentrated his efforts on the bud at the top. Then, once she was re-primed, he lifted her hand to her open vulva, showing her what he expected her to do.
"Continue on just that way," he said after a while.
As she masturbated, his cock, already turgid, distended outwards, seeking an inlet, any inlet to her body.
"Please Josh," she whimpered, her rosy bottom, slippery from the bath, backing up to him, sliding up and down his loins, taunting him with that deep crevice, tempting him with the dainty hole that lay within.
"Bend over," he commanded, stark and to the point, petting her bottom as she complied. "That's right," he praised. "All the way over, hands in the water."
When her hair fell forward over her face, floating like red seaweed in the partially filled tub, he bent and kissed her bottom cheeks, then sent his tongue straight in, rimming the dimple, before his tongue dipped into the hole.
"Oh, please?" she pleaded.
He pressed, but didn't penetrate. "You must tell me." His hand moved down the length of her spine, gauging her submission. "How shall I come inside you?"
She started to cry, great sobs wrenched from the core of her soul. It h
urt to hear those sobs, hurt to break her down, but it was a necessity.
"Speak it, Harry," he commanded. "Say the words and know them for the truth."
"Come into me anyway you would have me. My mouth. My cunt. My buttocks. It matters not how or the method you use. Only join your body with mine."
They were close, but they were not all the way there. Not yet. She wasn't fully broken. Not yet.
He asked the final question: "Why?"
"Because you own me, Joshua Kane. Only you, no other man."
She was broken! Picking her up in his arms, he carried her back to the bedchamber.
It was dark in the bedchamber, and Joshua didn't bother to light additional oil lamps. It was hot in the room, and he didn't bother to open a window. He was sweating like a lathered horse, and he didn't bother to swipe at the sweat rolling in rivulets between his shoulder blades down the length of his spine.
He spread her over the top of his bed, arms bent at the elbow on top of the burgundy coverlet, back bowed. He knelt behind her, one hand forward on the round of a buttock, a thumb sinking into the crevice.
Cock taken in hand, he leaned forward, pressed his lips to the elegant pale nape that drove him wild, then began the penetration...
Not sodomy. It was enough for him to know she would allow him all, and that in her obedience to him, naught was forbidden.
She was under his thumb now, and he was determined she would stay there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"You know, I really think we should try it."
"Would you stop?" the sea captain said, sounding vexed indeed at her suggestion. The man had no sense of humor whatsoever!
"I don't see why not..."
"Because I said so. Besides, all the blood would rush to your head."
"Oh, pooh!" She roused herself to a sit. "Come downstairs and I will show you. I used to stand on my head all the time as a child and this shouldn't require any more skill than that. I'm very sure I could swing from the dining room candelabra, upside down with my eyes closed and my hands clasped behind my back. And all you would have to do is climb atop the table, and poke me in the arse--"
The arse under discussion was smacked.
"Coo, sir, I just love it when you spank me," she purred.
"Harry," he chuckled, "can you never once be serious?"
"Your gravity more than makes up for my frivolousness, sir."
"Call me by my first name. I think you should, you know, now that we're ... now that we're..."
"Going at it like bunnies on an aphrodisiac?" she helpfully supplied.
The chuckle rumbled to an all-out gale of laughter, the kind of belly-whoop that says a man is relaxing. It was a fine sound, and she enjoyed it immeasurably, though her guards remained every bit as high. Even when she looked into Joshua's hazel-green eyes, crinkled in good humor, she kept her defenses raised. She did, however, allow herself to touch the male beauty of his sensuous mouth, now atremble with hilarity.
"Oh, Joshua..." was all she could think of to say.
Breaking the moment, and her hold on him, he looked down at her marked thigh. "How do you like the knot?"
"I should have preferred a dragon like yours."
"Far too fierce for a female," he decreed, as though that was the end all and be all of the discussion.
"Of course," she said, and played with a strand of hair, her argumentativeness hidden in coquettishness--over the years she had learned to temper her natural inclination to defend every point. Now, she only championed those causes that must by moral right be upheld. It was enough for her to know the female of the species could be every bit as fierce as the male, particularly if a beloved was in jeopardy
An uncomfortable pause came into the conversation. Joshua was the one to overcome it. "Unless ... did you want a more masculine tattoo because ... that is to say ... do you sell yourself to both sexes? Some whores do."
And some men allowed bitterness over the past to sour the future.
Joshua's mother had been a prostitute and his father an unknown entity--so what? Her parents had both been Quakers, and she had not followed in their Godly shoes. People make their own paths.
Feeling a fit of argumentativeness coming on, she drew her shoulders back. "I would sleep with a woman if I were attracted to her as a person. We fall in love with the whole person, not specifically their genitalia. Face and form--all outward appearance matters not a whit to me. Nothing matters but the sincerity of an individual's Inner Light." There! That was a point worth defending. And perhaps she hadn't strayed as far as she had thought from her parents' faith.
"You know, for a tiny thing, you have a fierce heart."
She laughed. "And that is my very point!"
"Well, you made it, and now up you go. We leave for Boston within the hour."
Harry rose naked from the Captain's bed. "I will need to return to my bedchamber for a fresh change of clothes."
"This is your bedchamber from now on, madam. I will want you beside me at night."
"I will move my things immediately, but for now I must change. And sir, in order to pass as your housekeeper in Boston, we will both need to conduct ourselves appropriately in public."
Tossing on her discarded servant's attire, Harry moved slowly to the door, her body sore from the strenuous way they had passed the evening.
"Drat this journey to Boston, anyway!" Joshua called after her. "I want you all to myself!"
Ablutions quickly performed, Harry dressed in gray muslin, the gown suitable for a housekeeper. It took but a scant few minutes to fold a few things away in a valise, and she was ready to leave.
Donning her new paisley shawl, she rushed out the mansion's front door to the carriage already pulled around front.
As Joshua helped her climb into the compartment, she noticed Peggy's husband wasn't alone on the driver's seat; a dark-skinned male, perhaps eleven or twelve years of age, was seated beside Andrew.
Settling into her seat, Harry quirked a brow at Joshua . "A freeman, I take it?"
"I have already related my policy on the slavery issue."
"Is he going into service in Boston?"
"No. I have higher hopes for young Daniel than servitude. The lad is very bright indeed, but he is in need of some formal schooling to challenge his quick intellect. I am to deliver him to a Quaker in Boston, and then it is onto a Friends school for him."
"A Friends school in Boston?"
Joshua shook his head, more tight-lipped than usual. "Elsewhere. Now, no more idle chatter."
And with that brusque comment, that was most certainly an evasion of truth, they were off to Boston, a wealthy ship-owner and his servant-whore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Since their arrival in Boston a week previously, Harry hadn't seen Joshua, not even to ask the sea captain if he had met with her last employer as he had told her he would. She was on pins and needles to learn the outcome of that meeting, to know if he had been successful in paying the extortion money or if a jail sentence lurked in her future.
The past nights, though exhausted, Harry had gone sleepless, tossing and turning in the stifling attic room she shared with three other servant girls. So as not to disturb her bedmates on the narrow cot, she had taken to the floor, her folded arms acting as a pillow. Her wayward thoughts were not only occupied with blackmail; she hungered for release.
Miss Ruby had once told her slyly that not only males have needs; that once a woman has known physical satisfaction it becomes difficult to go without for long. Joshua had introduced her to carnal pleasure, and once initiated, her body cried out for more of the same. The days were somewhat better. Kept busy in the basement kitchens, acting as scullery maid, up to the elbows in washing cooking dishes and pans, the time passed quickly. Still, no matter what she did or how busy she kept, the knot of need in her belly would not go away. Only lying again with Joshua would appease the ache, and it was that urgency that made her a harlot.
Tonight, she would serve at
the lavish affair given at the Boston brownstone. Somewhere among the dignitaries and the not-so-dignified, mingling between old money and new, charity rubbing shoulders with opportunists, she should find a dour, closed-mouthed sea captain. This time, she wouldn't wait until it was too late; this time, she would seek him out in the crowd of guests and somehow, someway, tell him how sorely she had missed him, and to please never leave her again. And then, she would fling caution to the winds, and abandon herself to illicit passion. Because she loved him, truly loved him, regardless that he thought the worst of her.
* * * *
While Josh discussed the going rates for a barrel of whale oil with a group of merchants he did business with, out of the corner of his eye he saw his hostess, Mrs. Theodore Taylor, raise two gloved fingers to a passing servant.
"Over here with that champagne," said Teddy's wife.
A good sort was Abby Taylor, but no teetotaler, and that was for damn sure; she had ordered the liquor tray over to her several times already, draining glass after glass. What surprised Josh was she was still strong on her feet, no sway at all, this after knocking back what had to be a keg ... or at least enough to put most seamen under the table.
This time, the domestic his hostess had called to her side was Harry.
After dropping his cargo off at Saint Catherine, Ontario--a small village just beyond Niagara Falls--he had rushed back to Boston on horseback, much faster than the carriage could have taken him. He had searched her out all night, since the very moment he had arrived back from the Canadian border. She must have been cloistered in the downstairs kitchens, for not until this very instant had he seen her.
He drank her in. Knocked her back with as much gusto as his hostess knocked back her champagne, though from the corner of his eye, so as not to arouse the suspicions of his esteemed companions.
Harry's every move was of interest to him. He took special note of the way she raced over to the jovial Abby, the dozen or so fluted glasses expertly balanced on the tray, not a single drop of the vintage wine spilled. Her flawless performance both amazed and disturbed him, as did her subservient demeanor. Had he not memorized every facet, every expression, every nuance of her animated features, committed every variation of her lively face to memory, he might not have known she was the same woman he had so thoroughly enjoyed in his bed. She'd been a right hellion, full of piss and vinegar, all wet pussy and big tits, grinding herself to him, her outrageously red mane of hair falling into her mischievous eyes, then over her animated face as he had her from behind, her heart-shaped arse taunting him, seducing him...