espionage

Maggie groggily awoke, she wasn’t sure of where she was, but she could barely move from the restraints she immediately became aware of. She was lying down on a metal table, her limbs made an “X” with a leather strap securing each wrist and ankle, additional straps were around her waist and forehead. Above her was a bright light shining into her eyes, she could hear voices in the room with her.



“Get the information anyway you can, use everything I taught you about torture,” a male voice said.



A woman spoke with a seductive Russian accident, “You have your methods and I have mine, don’t worry she’ll tell me everything I need to know soon enough.”



Maggie heard footsteps, and a door open and close. The light dimmed and above her a beautiful blonde woman entered the top of her vision, from her perspective she was upside-down.



“Hello, my name is Wolf. I want to welcome you, you know you were no easy spy to capture, hiding among our own ranks, but with a body like yours it was only a matter of time before you discovered. Especially the way you wiggled that cute little ass of yours. But what’s important is that you’re here now, and you’re going to tell me everything you know about our operation, everything about your unit, and about the male spy we also captured. Shall we get started?” Wolf finished her speech and walked out of Maggie’s field of vision.



The table Maggie was laying on began to move, it lifted up so that Maggie was now vertical as if she was standing, she was able to get a full view of Wolf who was a very attractive blonde woman with an amazing figure highlighted but the black cat suit she was, open at the chest revealing the cleavage of her ample breasts. The movement of the table made Maggie realize she was completely nude, she couldn’t look down because of the strap on her forehead but could tell from the air moving over her body.



Wolf spoke again with a bit of a mocking tone, “You know with red heads you always wonder if the carpet will match curtains, but I see you have hard wood floors.” Maggie blushed at this, as Wolf went on, “So we can do this the easy way or the hard way, so I’d like to give you an opportunity to spill your guts now.”



Maggie was trained for interrogations, but nothing like this scenario was in the training simulations, but she held strong, “I’m not telling you anything, do your worst,” Maggie boasted with confidence.



“My worst?” Wolf laughed, “Don’t worry sweetie, we’ll get there. You should consider yourself lucky, that man we caught you conspiring with is being interrogated by a man who implements electric shock throughout the entire body until he gets what he wants. I, on the other hand, have another tactic in mind. You know, I have always found pleasure is as good a motivator as pain, which is why I will use both. And it will not be long before you will be begging me to stop and continue at the same time.”



Wolf approached her prey and reached her hands up, she caught Maggie’s nipples between her thumb and forefinger and began to gently roll them. Maggie responded with an uncontrolled moan before protesting, “What do you think you’re doing, you think this’ll get me to talk?”



Wolf said nothing and smiled as she removed her hands from Maggie’s now erect nipples and presented two clamps, she applied a clamp to Maggie’s right nipple and the left. With each, Maggie let out a wince.



“Do you enjoy anal sex little girl?” Wolf asked, as if it weren’t an absurd request of information. Maggie said nothing, deciding it was best to offer nothing. “Hmm, I will take that as a no, I imagine your training told you to be tightlipped, well that’s fine, I have a little training for you myself.”



Wolf walked to a table and took two items off of it, she returned to Maggie and said, “This is lesson one,” and she held up a small butt plug in front of Maggie’s face, who again said nothing but her expression had changed. Wolf went on, “From the look on your face, I can assume you know exactly what this is and where it is going, so let’s let your anal training begin.



Wolf applied a bit of lube to the plug and reached between Maggie’s spread and bound legs, she quickly found her anus with the tip of the plug and began to apply pressure. Maggie tightened her sphincter and did her best to resist, but the plug wasn’t very big and well lubed allowing Wolf to eventually slip it into place as Maggie grunted and moaned. When it was secure in her captive’s ass, Wolf gave the base a little tap and said, “There we go, you may have tight lips, but your asshole is that much looser, isn’t it?”



Wolf retrieved a black riding crop, and placed the business end of the crop on Maggie’s pussy, “Are you ready to talk?” Maggie again said nothing, this time shyly turning her head away from her tormenter. “Oh a tough nut to crack, but we’ll get there, don’t worry,” Wolf reassured. Slowly and lightly Wolf used the riding crop on Maggie dealing blows to her thighs, just outside her labia, and few precision hit directly on her clit. With each one, Maggie grunted, and a bit of her resolve melted away. Wolf continued assaulting her, each hit slightly harder than the last, until she decided to switch tactics.



She dropped the crop, and used her bare hand to gently rub Maggie’s cunt. With her free hand she removed Maggie’s nipple clamps, which caused her to moan at the sensation of the clamp being removing. Wolf commented on this, “Don’t worry sweetie, we’re going to get more clamps on your little titties soon, but for now I want to try something else.”



Wolf again removed herself to fetch another tool and returned quickly, holding something just out of Maggie’s view. Wolf leaned forward and gave each of her captive’s nipple a gentle kiss and a lick. When she removed her tongue she replaced it with a small plastic tube open on one end, the other end had a little gauge on it. She place the hose of a small hand pump she had in her other hand and gave it a few quick pumps. This pressurized the tubes and drew Maggie’s nipples into them. Maggie was now visibly panting and moaning. Wolf knew she was close to cracking, and pressed on with her torture.



“Hmm, I’d say it’s about time for lesson two.” Wolf said as she retrieved another butt plug, this one was the exact same design but considerably large. Again, she reached between Maggie’s legs and began to remove the initial plug. Similar to the nipple clamps, the sensation of its removal cause an intense mix of pain and pleasure. This was enjoyed very briefly before Wolf inserted the larger plug, which slid in slightly easier than it’s predecessor, “by the time I am done anally training you there won’t be anything you will not be able to get in this ass,” Wolf said as if it were a virtuous persuit.



Next, Wolf presenting a large dildo in front of Maggie’s face, this dildo was special, it had metal bands about every 2 inches up and down it’s shaft and had a hilt and handle like a sword. There was also a cord connecting it to a power source. Wolf said nothing as she began to insert it into Maggie’s vagina. She worked it in and out a few times, before flipping a switch on the handle, and electric current began to pulse through Maggie’s entire pussy.



The sensation were almost too much as Wolf worked the electrified dildo in and out of Maggie, she could see by the look on her face she had some words for her. “Well,” questioned Wolf, “are you ready to tell me what I want to hear?”



Maggie, panting and disoriented, took a moment to catch her breath and then began to speak, “I… I… I’m not telling you anything!” She was able to muster. Wolf was as impressed as she was frustrated. She almost had an outburst but controlled herself, knowing not show weakness in front of her captive.



Wolf removed the dildo from Maggie, and then reached up pushing the gauges on her nipple tubes releasing the pressure allowing them to be removed as well. Wolf spoke as calmly as she could, “Ok, I can see you’re no light weight, it’s time to step this up.”



Wolf again went to her supply bag and returned with two long chains that had clamps at either end. She attached a clamp to Maggie’s right nipple and slung the chain around her back bringing the other chain around to the front of her left hip and attached the clamp at the opposite end of the chain to her left labia. She repeated the process, clamping her left nipple, bringing the chain around her back to the front of her right hip and securing the chain to her right labia.



Wolf adjust the slack on the chains until they were completely taught and the torques them slightly more. The had the effect of not only putting constant strain on Maggie’s nipple and labia, but also effectively parted her pussy lips both up and out making her clit and her inner work completely exposed and vulnerable.



Maggie couldn’t help be feel the effects of these new devices, she was struggling and moaning as Wolf teased her by plucking the chains like harp strings.



Wolf reached into her back pocket and brought a tube into her hands, she opened it and put a small dap on the tip of her finger. “I want you to know, you are a special girl,” Wolf complimented her prey, “I have extracted information from all manner of man and woman and most would have talked long ago. But you need to understand I always get the information I need from anyone I interrogate, it may have taken you a little longer, but I can see it in your face, you’re ready to talk, you just need that last little push.”



As she spoke, Wolf encircled Maggie’s clit with the finger she had applied the cream too. Maggie couldn’t understand how this was in anyway a trump card, and then Wolf began to speak again, “You see, this an analgesic ointment I make myself, it’s five times more potent than anything like Bengay or Icey Hot. I created it for when I was forced to stay in a sniper position for extended periods, and accidently discovered its use for what you should be feeling momentarily.”



Wolf withdrew her hand from Maggie, who sat there for moment before her clit began to throb. It was cold, and yet hot at the same time, it caused her to ache, she had never had this feeling in her pussy before. She began to thrash around which only served to aggravate the clamps on her labia nipples.



Maggie was forced to debase herself, and began to beg, “Please, please wash it off, I can’t take it please.”



Wolf just smiled at the sight of her bucking little slave before her, she said with a laugh in her voice, “You’re going to tell me what I want to know or the next butt plug is going into you covered in this stuff.”



“Yes, YES! I will tell you everything, just please, wash it off, please hurry!” Maggie cried.



Wolf brought a damp wash cloth and began to wipe her captives pussy, as she did this Maggie began to tell her everything. Everything about herself, her unit, what she knew about the man who also got captured, and everything her department knew about the terrorist group.



“Oh my sweet little Maggie, you’ve been so helpful. I want you to know we’ve been taping this whole process, we’re going to make sure your unit gets a copy of you spilling your guts to us.” Wolf assured her.



Maggie said nothing, but held a look of despair and defeat, as Wolf flipped a switch returning her to a position of laying down. “I hope you don’t think we’re done here, we still have a few more things to settles Mags,” Wolf mocked her with nicknames.



Wolf mounted the table and was on her knees with Maggie’s head between her legs. She reached down between her own thighs and undid a zipper at the crotch of her cat suit. “I usually use the for the toilet, but I think it’s serving a worthy purpose here, so you’re going to get to work.”



Maggie hesitated at first, as Wolf lowered her hips and placed her pussy on Maggie’s mouth, enveloping her lips with her own lips. With the strap still across her forehead she was unable to move, and saw no other choice but to begin performing cunnilingus on this woman who had broken her.



Wolf moaned as Maggie’s tongue worked in and out of her pussy and through her cunt lips, “Good girl, you’re doing a great job.” As she said this, she thrust herself forward a bit and lined up her ass with her captive’s mouth, with out instruction Maggie began to tongue her asshole as Wolf further moaned, “What a clever girl you are, I thing you deserve a reward for your cooperation.”



Wolf reached back with her left hand placed her hand on Maggie’s pussy, with the clamps still spreading her wide, Wolf easily found her clit and gave it appropriate attention.



With her right hand she gave her on clit similar attention, and with the attentional sensation on her asshole, it was long before she has an explosive orgasm squirting all over Maggie’s face, as she powered through her orgasm she upped the attention to Maggie’s clit bringing her close to orgasm as well. But she knew exactly what she was doing, and stopped before Maggie was able to achieve orgasm.



“Not yet, my sweet, you’re almost there, but there are just a few things to take care of first. Wolf got off Maggie’s face and off the table and took a moment to compose herself. “First off, after all the talking you did, and the wonderful job you did on me, I think we need to give that mouth of yours a break, and I have just the thing.” Wolf brought on O-ring gag to Maggie’s mouth who, now broken, willingly opened her mouth and gave no resisitence as it was inserted and secured behind her head.



“I love this O-rings, they just make more sense than ball gags, because you can still access the mouth, don’t you think?” Wolf asked rhetorically as she loomed over Maggie’s face, for a moment it looked as if she was going to give her a loving kiss, but Wolf simply spit into the center of the O-ring into Maggie’s mouth further asserting her dominance over her.



“I don’t think we need these anymore.” Wolf said as she unclipped each of the four clamps remaining on Maggie’s body, she enjoyed watching her writhe in her binds as each one came off cause the unique mix of pleasure and pain.



Wolf brought something else to Maggie, but as she was laying and Wolf was at her waist on the side of the table she was unable to see what it was. But Wolf returned attention to her pussy and she quickly focused again on orgasming, but again as she got close wolf withdrew her hand, “Just a few more things dear, I think you know it’s time for your next lesson.”



Wolf reached between her legs and pulled out the medium sized butt plug and brought a lubed large plug to replace it. As the plu was touched to her anus, Maggie relaxed her sphincter and allowed Wolf to easily slide it in, “Good girl,” Wolf complimented as she took a moment to test her subject, sliding the plug in and out of her ass a few times before allowing it to settle into place.



Maggie gave a whine through her gag, begging for release. Wolf smiled and walked away from her, “Just one more thing, you’re going to be my slave from now on and I have to get you ready.”



Maggie couldn’t even process what Wolf had just said, she wasn’t thinking about what was going to happen to her past the next few minutes, all she knew is that she needed to come after all the stimulation she had received.



Wolf undid the restraint around Maggie’s waist, who immediately gave a quick buck of her hips, before Wolf placed her hand just above her pussy causing her to lower back down. Wolf fed a strap of some firm black material between Maggie’s legs, one end came about to her belly button and the other side came to equal height on her back.



Wolf than took another black strap of the same material and wrapped it around Maggie’s waist like a belt, feeding each end of the initial strap into mechanisms on the belt as Wolf adjusted it the two straps became tight and secure on Maggie’s body.



Wolf took a step back to admire her work, and Maggie again whined for the attention she needed on her cunt. Wolf just laughed, and explained “Maggie my dear, you’ve just been equipped with another device of my own design, it is what I feel in the world’s most effective chastity belt.” As she continue to speak, Wolf began to rub the part of the belt covering Maggie’s pussy, who could indeed feel nothing. “And just so you’re not worrying about it, I’m just going to tell you, you wont be cumming anytime soon.”



Maggie struggled in her restraints, bucking her hips up and down, she could make no words with her gag but grunted best she good. Wolf just laughed at the pathetic heap that used to be a respectable agent less than an hour ago who had fallen to her torture. She turned and walked out the room to find a guard to make arrangements to have Maggie properly restrained and delivered to her quarters.

Eighteen fifty seven had not been a good year for Missus Amanda Williams.



In February, her husband Samuel had left her. Not just left her for another woman, but of all people, an actress of twenty something. Whilst losing her husband was hard to take, for a woman rapidly approaching forty, the fact that he opted for a young thing was devastating to her.



Then in July, her father had died from a massive heart attack. Being in London when that happened, it was impossible to get home to the family plantation Selby Bluff in Meldrim near Savannah, Georgia for the funeral. Now, though, two months later, after settling her affairs in London, she was about to set sail from Bristol in the West of England to Norfolk, Virginia.



Amanda and her father George had never been close, in fact since she was in her teens they had only seen each other a few times. Her mother had been the family, her father was the plantation. He ran it well with a military-like precision and efficiency, which ensured that it made loads of money and was one of the most successful in the Savannah area.



Whilst the slaves were, of course, treated very strictly, ‘as you had to otherwise they would be lazy,’ they were certainly better off at Selby Bluff Plantation than many others in Georgia. George La Salle recognised that even slaves responded to fair treatment and that it was in his and the plantation’s interest for them to be well motivated. He achieved that, and thus greater productivity than most plantations, by finding a good balance between fair treatment and strict sometimes harsh physical discipline.



Despite having been brought up surrounded by slaves, Amanda found the whole slavery ownership of human beings hard to take or accept.



It was her mother, Florence, who had been the driving influence in Amanda’s life. A Yankee from Boston, she was well educated and well read. Why on earth she had moved from the sophistication of Massachusetts to the cultural wastelands of Georgia was a question that always fascinated Amanda, but had remained unanswered right up until her mother’s death a few years ago.



She had ensured that both Amanda and her year younger brother, Adam, had received excellent educations, something that her father felt was a waste of time, particularly for women.



Whereas her brother went to Harvard, Amanda never did get to university, or to the finishing school in Europe that Florence had intended. On a weekend trip to New York from Boston where she had been visiting Adam when she was twenty-three, she met Samuel Williams. Amongst other things, he was a professional gambler and simply swept her off her feet. The next weekend he took the train to Boston and not only captivated her again, he swept her into his bed at the original hotel in Copley Place, The Belvedere.



Pregnant, she married him a month later at a dazzling wedding in Manhattan, paid for by Samuel. Her father and most of her family apart from Florence and Adam refused to attend. Losing the baby after a few months and being unable to have further children was a heartache Amanda constantly struggled to come to terms with.



Unlike most gamblers, Samuel was shrewd. Every time he won, he gave a quarter of his winnings to Amanda and invested another quarter in longer-term, difficult-to-sell investments. One of these was in a theatrical company owned by a descendant of David Garrick, a massive name in the American and English theatres. That investment grew rapidly and provided Samuel and Amanda with a steady income from both the New York and, particularly, the London businesses.



“Let’s go and live in London, Mandy,” Samuel said one night as they lay in bed, still sweaty and panting from their lovemaking, which as usual had been spectacular.



They talked about it for some time, with Amanda becoming increasingly more excited at, and interested in, the idea of living in the greatest city in the world, at that time, Queen Victoria’s London.



Whilst Samuel’s gambling increased in London, where big poker games, roulette and Chemin De Fer were all the rage, his main occupation gradually became a theatrical impresario. He loved setting up the plays and music halls, negotiating the deals, motivating writers and, as Amanda found out later, fucking the young actresses.



London had been fantastic. Samuel had been fabulously successful as a theatrical producer and latterly as a theatre owner. That had opened doors to so many circles that their five years in England was a whirl of social engagements which reached right up to the level of the Prince of Wales, Queen Victoria’s eldest son.



They lived in a mansion near to Piccadilly and had an estate in the country in Berkshire, not far from Windsor Castle where the royal family spent much of their time. They travelled frequently visiting the major cities in Europe, even going as far as to sailing down the Nile in Egypt.



In many ways it was an ideal life.



They were rich and successful and both had interesting work. Amanda had used some of the gambling money from Samuel to open a publishing company and as a hobby had started writing books, under a nom de plume of course. Her description of her writing as ‘Jane Austen with red blood’ meant that under no circumstances could they be associated with her!



That was her secret occupation, even from Samuel. The string of houses of ill repute he owned were his secret from Amanda. As time went on, the brothels became not just a business for him, but also a hobby.



It had taken Amanda, and Samuel come to that, to understand and adapt to the ‘standards’ of Victorian England. In America such aspects of life as etiquette, dress codes, manner, behaviour and morals were clearer and more straightforward than they were in Britain where everything appeared to one thing, but turned out to be something else. For some reason, probably the personality of the thirty eight year old Queen Victoria, social and family life was conducted with such a degree of prudishness that on the surface everything appeared to be of very highly morale values. But scratch that surface and all manner of double standards with pornography, prostitution, opium smoking, mistresses and lovers, kept women and gargoyles quickly emerged. In many ways this suited the liberal, easy going relaxed thinking and loose standards that Samuel, particularly and Amanda to a lesser, but nevertheless meaningful degree held.



They were both fairly heavily involved in charity work, having befriended the Earl of Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley-Cooper, who was the leading philanthropist of the time. Amanda worked closely with him and Florence Nightingale, a nurse who Anthony supported. Samuel had a great interest in boxing and worked closely with the father of John Chambers who went on to develop the Queensberry rules.



Overall it was a very heady time. But as Amanda came to learn, nothing is perfect, no couple’s life is ideal, and there are always problems of one sort or the other either existing or just round the corner.



London in mid-Victorian times was similar to the revolution in the nineteen sixties; it was ‘swinging London,’ but without the Beatles. With their various interests, Samuel and Amanda were right at the heart of the swinging scene. As usual with most ‘swinging scenes,’ sex featured strongly and Victorian London was awash with the desires of the flesh.



Infidelity was rife among the upper classes, generally and, particularly, within the ‘arty’ set that Samuel and Amanda frequented.



Most men had mistresses and many ‘highly respectable’ women found nothing immoral in having a lover. The difference between the genders was that men tended to have a series of mistresses, sometimes several at the same time whilst ‘respectable’ women generally had one lover, preferably lasting some time. The established pattern worked well, though naturally it was never discussed, apart from between very close friends.



The whole rather sordid way of life was ‘brushed under the carpet.’ Pornography was rife and on the increase, with brothels and streetwalkers seemingly everywhere. Not much different to later years, really.



Samuel had always been a ladies’ man. The tall, slim and muscular long, dark haired man had a highly fashionable, heavy black moustache tinged with grey. His piercing blue eyes seemed to permanently sparkle and, when looking at ladies, appeared to have x-ray abilities that seemed to send his gaze right through their clothing. For the first few years of their marriage, Amanda had believed his flirting was just his way.



But slowly, it dawned on her that it was more than that.



She never, of course, confronted him with her suspicions, but as time went on and their position in London became more deeply involved with the liberal life-style of theatre folk, her reservations turned into convictions.



It hurt at first. She found it demeaning, annoying and frustrating to wonder who, sitting around her table at a dinner party for instance, was being shagged by her husband, or which one of this week’s cast was he putting up in a hotel away from the rest so he could pop round for ‘afternoon matinees.’



After a period of heartache, she gradually came to accept that was just how things were in upper class London. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, she eventually decided, responding to his infidelity by taking her own lover or, more accurately, lovers.



After several meaningless, but nevertheless sexually satisfying flings, Amanda settled down with her long-term lover, Sir Bernard d’Argent. Into his fifties, the grey haired man was a scholar, being very versed in early psychology and as a playwright and author. Amanda thought he was the most intelligent man she had ever met; and a good mind had always been far more likely to get her juices flowing than mere good looks.



After meeting him at the premiere of a play produced by Samuel, his intellect took just a few weeks not only to get inside her bloomers, but to get them, together with every other piece of her clothing onto the floor of his London apartment in Dover Street.



Amanda had been careful, shrewd and, to an extent, lucky with the investments she had made with her share of Samuel’s gambling winnings. She had acquired a considerable amount of jewellery, mainly gold and diamonds, invested in two railway companies in America, had bought land in the ‘new world’ of California and had earned interest from banks in both England and America on the cash deposited with them.



When their relationship came to its inevitable end, Samuel was generous with his settlement, including the estate in Datchet and the house in Piccadilly with an annual allowance of several thousand pounds. After her father’s death and her decision to return home, it came as a huge surprise to Amanda, after finalising her affairs in London, to find just how wealthy she was.



She didn’t really want to go back to the Deep South, but reluctantly felt she had no choice. Her brother, Adam was a dreamer, an artist a thinker. He wasn’t a doer and he certainly could not run the plantation, well not by himself. She agreed to come home and run it with him until they could find a buyer, or until they decided what alternative courses of action were open to them.



***



It was seven months since Amanda had had sex and she was suffering! Since losing her virginity at eighteen, she had not gone that long without it, but with Bernard on a visit to India, she had little opportunity, despite a few of her husband’s friends ‘offering their services.’



Although believing that having a lover was acceptable, Amanda, like many other London women in similar situations to her, could not countenance sleeping around or promiscuity. So in the months leading up to her return home, she was reluctantly forced into celibacy.



That changed on the voyage from Bristol to Norfolk. She had not meant to have sex with Jarvis, though was fully aware that men like the Captain regularly had such liaisons as they crossed the Atlantic. She was under no misapprehensions at all what this was about – a shipboard romance, a sexual fling for both of them that would end when they reached America.



The feeling as his cock slid into her was amazing. It was like finding sex for the first time. She had forgotten just how wonderful a sensation it was to have a man push himself deeply inside her, filling her, seemingly consuming her and, yes, stuffing her to overflowing.



Amanda had hoped to sail home on one of the newer, steam powered ships, but cost constraints by the shipping lines meant that New York was currently their only destination. She had asked around in London and had been advised not to take a cabin on one of the returning cotton ships for they were slow, had inferior quarters and often unruly and vulgar crews. That would never do!



Instead, she booked a passage on one of the lighter, faster clippers that primarily transported tobacco into Bristol and light machinery, clothing and other goods back to Norfolk. The Western Spirit carried a maximum of ten passengers, but only five were on this trip. With Amanda were Mr and Mrs Stevensen, an elderly couple visiting their daughter in Baltimore, and Sir and Lady Barton, a middle aged couple who were moving to Washington as part of England’s diplomatic team.



Amanda had booked the premier cabin located in the stern of the ship. It had its own small balcony and was located near to the Captain’s cabin, with only the dining room between the two. Both cabins had doors leading into the well-appointed dining room, where the five passengers dined most evenings in the company of the Captain and his three officers who shared the three eight hour shifts.



Richard Jarvis was a career ship’s captain. He had served in the Royal Navy for ten years before receiving an inheritance, most of which he invested in the Western Spirit. Being not just the captain, but also part owner, gave him the freedom he craved. A bachelor from Bath, he had an eye for the ladies and he had perfected the art of seduction on many of his journeys. Sometimes with a daughter of a passenger, occasionally with a wife and, rarer, with a woman travelling alone.



Amanda was a perfect target.



His hopes had been raised when he had checked the manifest and passenger list after the ship had been unloaded following its arrival from Norfolk. The recent advances in the dockside materials handling equipment had speeded up the loading and unloading, and now the Spirit could be turned round in ten days. This enabled Richard to travel up to London for business meetings and to see his mistress there, the wife of one of his business partners.



It also provided him with the time to oversee the loading and any repairs and to see his lady friend, his betrothed, in Bristol.



Greeting the guests as they boarded the ship, Captain Jarvis felt the familiar fire in his loins when he saw Amanda. Probably in her late thirties, he guessed, she was a typical ‘Southern belle’. He admired her pale skin, her lustrous, long, wavy, chestnut coloured hair, but most of all, her wonderful curves. Accentuated by her corset, her narrow waist, delightfully flared hips and deliciously full bust were enough to inflame any red-blooded male.



As a footman helped Amanda down from the carriage she had taken from the railway station, Jarvis admired the fashionably low-cut, heavily patterned dress that seemed to gape away her from as she leaned forward descending from the carriage. He loved the warm days that brought out such clothing. The fashionable, very London cut of the dress drew his gaze, along with that of every other man on the deck, to her spectacular breasts.



There and then, he vowed that he would be sucking them before the estimated seven-week journey to America was completed.



As it turned out, it took him less than two weeks.



As most attractive, especially heavily breasted women do, Amanda had felt his attraction to her as they shook hands and he accompanied her onto his ship. The sparkle in his eye was similar to her estranged husband, and she felt comfortable with him as he showed her to her quarters. The cabin had a small sitting room, a bedroom with a dressing room off to one side and doors leading to the balcony, looking out from the stern of the ship, and to the dining room. It had been worth paying the extra for the grandest, most luxurious and private accommodation on the ship.



During the first week at sea, the two other officers alternated dining or lunching with the passengers, but the Captain hosted each meal. That wasn’t his normal practice, but how else was Richard Jarvis to get to know Mrs Williams as quickly as he needed to? His plan worked well.



She sat on his left during the first week, with the captain paying her that extra amount of special attention without ignoring the other passengers. Amanda was flattered at his attention, which gradually became more flirtatious, albeit highly discrete, as they got to know each other. She began to realise that it was probably only a matter of time and as he became more forthright and forward in the second week, she made sure he realised she was interested.



She did that in the practised way she had learned in London society, in the way that only women who are confident of their sexual attraction can do.



It was not very long before he invited her to join him for an after dinner drink in his Captain’s night cabin when the other passengers had retired: discretion and good standards had to be maintained of course! Two days after their first drink in his cabin,, he kissed her. At first it was gentle and respectful on her cheek accompanied by a “Good night Missus Williams.”



Within a couple of days, however, it was powerful and suggestive right on her mouth, as he said, “I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw you alighting from your carriage, Amanda.” She had no hesitation in responding.



As they kissed, they both knew it was just a matter of time before they made love. What they did not know as he squeezed her breast, was that it would be as soon as the following day.



Mr and Mrs Barton hadn’t joined them for dinner as she was slightly unwell, and Sir and Lady Stevensen, as usual, retired early. Amanda and Richard stood on the balcony sipping wine as he smoked a pipe. Their location was completely isolated, they were alone, no one could see them, for the dining room door was locked.



Perfect for the seduction he had in mind! He kissed her and she responded.



The sexual frustrations Amanda had felt for several months had become more extreme since she had been on the ship. Even her daily masturbation sessions had not provided the real relief she needed. Only a man’s cock could do that.



In a desperate attempt to assuage her need, she’d one time bravely risked having sex with herself on her secluded balcony. She had only once before been naked in the open air and the feel of the sea air on her bare body was fantastic. Her resultant self-induced orgasm was wonderful, and a second had quickly followed. That was the moment she knew she had to have Captain Richard Jarvis’s cock inside her.



Even as she recalled that moment, Richard’s hand found her breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure. It sent a shudder through her, bringing a little groan of pent up arousal from her mouth.



Richard smiled to himself. He recognised the signs of her excitement and frustration, but then he always did. He was used to fucking middle-aged women who had been starved of sex and invariably they reacted in the same way. “I want you so much Amanda,” he seductively whispered into her ear, crushing her stomach against his strong erection, as best he could in her voluminous, hooped skirt.



She shuddered and groaned again. Never before had she felt such a strong need, nor had such powerful sensations flowed through her. Her sexual frustrations seemed obvious to them both. Shamelessly, she kissed him back, pushing her upper body firmly against his chest.

Richard smiled inwardly as he turned up the pressure. Seducing beautiful women was an aphrodisiac of which he would never tire of. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you, from when I watched you climbing down from the carriage. You are truly beautiful and I want to see all of you. I want to make love to you Amanda?”



His words crashed into her sexually addled mind. Her body took over and it pressed back even harder against his so inviting erection, which she could just feel through her skirt, petticoat, chemise and drawers. He knew there and then, if there had been any doubt earlier, that she was his.



“Wait here,” she told him. “When you see me open my door to the dining room, count to twenty then come into my room.”



Richard was satisfied with that arrangement. It was a not an uncommon one with a new lover for the task of a man undressing his seducee was lengthy and complicated.



Amanda felt like a young girl about to have sex for the first time. Was she really a woman approaching her fortieth birthday who had been shagged on average three times a week for over twenty years? ‘Yes,’ she smiled to herself as she sat in front of the small dressing table taking the pins out of hair, ‘I must have been fucked over three thousand times, but I feel as nervous as if it is my first time.’



London was the leader in women’s fashion in Victorian times, although Paris, naturally enough, always challenged that and later took over that mantle. From Amanda and her friend’s perspective, they were both leaders; Paris perhaps in sheer style, London certainly in pushing out the boundaries and being more outrageous. And of course, leading the fashion trends in London were the theatrical, artistic and publishing communities.



As a result, Amanda’s hair style was not the typical ‘pulled tight to her head, parted in the middle and covering her ears fashion, which she knew she would find in America. No, for several years now, London women had been showing their ears by pulling their hair back. They had stopped using the austere flat to the head and centre parting look and instead piled the hair up onto the top of their head, letting long ringlets fall down their forehead and neck and round their ears.



As with most women, Amanda had never had much cut from her hair so it tumbled down onto and past her shoulders. Men and women alike admired her naturally curly, beautiful, deep chestnut coloured locks. She pulled the whalebone pins and bone combs from the bun on top of her head, ran her fingers through it and then shook her head so it tumbled down in a slightly unruly, but highly provocative look. Long, wavy locks fell over her eyes and face. A shiver ran through her at the thought of Richard pulling her silken hair aside to kiss her.



Standing, Amanda reached behind her and undid the complicated row of hooks and eyes, which ran up the back of the pale lemon, silk bodice. She slipped that off and undid and pushed down her overskirt. In keeping with leading London and Paris fashion, she was wearing a hoop that was quite complicated to remove. It was the main reason she hadn’t invited Richard to her room; being undressed by a stranger could be embarrassing and very time consuming. ‘Far better to do it yourself’ many women believed.



Removing the hoop she slipped out of the two petticoats she was wearing to combat the evening chill; sometimes in London’s winters she would wear four or five. When she got to the plantation with its summer heat and humidity, she would only wear one and sometimes none at all. She wasn’t at all looking forward to the heat.



Looking at herself in the mirror as she slipped out of both petticoats, she wished she had a maid here to help. The corset was laced tightly at the back, drawing her naturally, twenty-six inch, and very womanly waist into that of a twenty-three inch, younger female.



She pondered a moment or two on the thought of opening her door dressed as she was: a white chemise with lace and frills round the neckline, the oyster coloured corset over that and under it, her white, cotton pantalettes, which came to just beneath her knee and had fine lace round the bottoms. Under that she was wearing black, opaque stockings, held up by a garter, which were tucked into ankle-height boots; she hadn’t yet tried the new corsets with suspenders, but had some in her luggage,.



She struggled out of the corset, removed her pale grey, kid ankle boots, then her drawers and slipped the chemmy over her head. Just wearing the dark stockings, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Even without the benefits of the corset, Amanda was curvy. Some had described her as voluptuous, others termed her Rubenesque. Whatever the description, she had a body that plunged inwards from the mounds of her full, ripe breasts to the indentation of her waist and then flared out to the delicious, roundness of her so feminine hips.



Her stomach remained flat, and her unsuckled breasts, though sagging slightly from their own fullness and weight, stood out proud and inviting, capped by large, coral coloured areola and prominent nipples.



Having worn corsets from her early teens, she had, in keeping with many upper class ladies of the time, an upright posture. Her perpetual straight back pushed her chest forwards emphasising the prominence of her breasts; she sometimes wished she could slouch a little!



Amanda put her clothes away and contemplated how to greet Richard. As she was, in just her stockings, an attire that she was aware was becoming popular with men when having sex? Or perhaps in bed, sitting on it or standing, she wondered?



On balance, she felt that being naked apart from her hosiery was a little too forward, so she slipped into another chemise. This was also white with shoulder-straps and a plunging neckline lined with broderie anglais and lace. It was in the new London style of being tighter, thinner and shorter than worn in most other countries, which certainly included the New World.



Hence, the lace-trimmed hem came half way between the top of her legs and her knees and the outline and shadow of her nipples showed through the thin, tight bodice.



Richard knew from experience that Amanda had suggested him waiting so that she could undress. That pleased him, for fumbling around with a woman’s underwear could be so tiresome and sometimes resulted in the moment of passion passing. He knew that she would take some time, so he smoked another pipe, drank some brandy and removed his hip-length, dresscoat, waistcoat and cravat.



His baggy, muslin shirt and tight, wool trousers were both white. He checked the doors from the dining room and his cabin to the rest of the ship, making sure they were locked, and left the room from his cabin to the dining room open. That would ensure that in the unlikely event he was wanted, he would hear the knock.



Despite this sort of thing happening on most trips, he was surprised to find himself feeling nervous. He knew that Amanda was upper-class, hugely wealthy, extremely attractive and immensely sexy. Normally she’d be out of his league, but the confidence he had from bedding so many women would, he knew, see him through.



‘Once they’d experienced the Captain’s cock, women passengers always wanted more’ he smiled to himself.



He was beginning to wonder whether she had changed her mind when he saw her door opening. Heart pounding, he counted out the twenty seconds and added a few more, just in case. As he walked the few yards from the balcony of the small dining room to her room, he felt himself hardening in the tight trousers. He was ready for action and, by god, he was going to have what he wanted.



This beautiful woman would be his greatest conquest yet!



“Come in Richard,” he heard, enjoying her part British and part Deep South soft tone and accent.



With the approaching darkness and Amanda’s decision not to light any candles, the cabin was dim. As Richard opened the door, light flooded in from the dining room he was, momentarily framing him in the doorway. She gulped at how alluringly attractive he looked in the off white, tight trousers, the baggy shirt open half way down his chest, and the knee length, black leather boots.



As he pushed the door open, Richard made his decision and pushed his erection free from his underpants and the tail of his shirt. It reared in such a masculine way right up his flat, taught stomach to edge just above his naval. He knew from the frequent nude bathing and swimming at the Royal Navy training camp that he was more well-endowed than most and, as with most men, he was proud of that.



Amanda was in bed, covered with just a single cotton sheet. Her spectacular form was clearly outlined under it. As they looked at each and smiled, they both felt their arousal begin to peak in anticipation of what was soon to happen.



“Hello Richard,” she whispered.



“Good evening, Amanda,” he replied, covering the few yards from the door to the bed in half a dozen strides.



“Welcome to my cabin, sir,” she smiled loving the look of lust and adoration on his face as he stood beside her bed rampantly erect.



“Thank you most kindly madam,” he smiled, adding slowly, “Will you be welcoming me to anywhere else?”



“Pray sir, what do you mean?” she teased, continuing the verbal charade as they got used to each other in a sexual as opposed to simply a flirtatious situation. Amanda was adopting the speech affectation partly as a defence mechanism against her shyness when with a man for the first time, but also as tease, maybe even a seduction technique.



His dark eyes bore into hers as he put one knee on the bed and ran the back of his fingers across her forehead and into her lustrous hair. He stroked her hair downwards, reaching the bare skin of her shoulder. They both felt the sensation as he touched her naked flesh for the first time. The outline of her breasts under the sheet suggested she was wearing a chemise. He wondered what else she wore under the thin sheet.



Amanda was unable to hold Richard’s eyes. That was not due to her being embarrassed, but was because she felt such a strong compulsion to let her gaze roam down his body. It was as if his cock was a magnet. She could not help herself from focusing on it, imagining its appearance, texture, warmth, smoothness and, of course, most excitingly its hardness pushing into her.



Another surge of arousal roared through her.



Richard ran his fingers down the lacy shoulder strap of her chemise. He contemplated slipping them inside the material, but resisted. Instead, he took hold of the top of the sheet and lifted it slightly.



“Maybe your bed madam, will you be welcoming me there?”



Amanda smiled, as she now understood his earlier question.



“Gladly sir, but without your boots, for the owner of this bed is very particular.”



“Indeed he is madam, indeed he is,” Richard replied thinking, ‘Oh fuck’ realising how difficult it is to remove one’s boots now that they were worn so tightly.



“Of course,” he said pushing the side of one foot against the heel of the other, but realising he would need to sit down to remove the very tight, waterproof boots. “Bear with me one moment while I remove them.”



“Of course, but would you like some help, sir?”



“That would be most welcome, ma’am, as normally my valet removes them and I assume you do not wish me to call him?”



“No sir,” Amanda said revelling in the light-hearted, but very meaningful and sexually charged banter. “I was rather thinking that maybe you would like me to perform his chores for you.”



“That would be a delight.”



“Then sir, please sit on the bed.”



He sat and watched totally fascinated, with rising excitement, as Amanda pushed the bedclothes back. She lay there for a moment or two, exhibiting herself to him before sliding out of the bed and standing before him.



He had read about the shorter chemise fashion, but this was the first he had seen. It was so enormously sexy, he had never seen a partially dressed woman showing so much leg before. Nor had he, not since he and a friend had ‘bought’ two easy women in London, seen a woman in her stockings.



Their blackness contrasted beautifully with the whiteness of her chemise and the paleness of her skin on her thighs.



Amanda felt brave and confident. Her adventure on the high seas and the knowledge she was with a man she would never see again after the voyage, made her unusually forward in the sexual progress.



She stood before him, revelling in his gaze roaming over her body clad in just the thin chemise. Unlike nearly all women’s clothing of the time, it did nothing to hide her curves. Being low cut and loose with a hem that ended at mid-thigh, just inches beneath the tops of her black stockings, it also hid very little.



As she moved, her heavy breasts, swayed provocatively inside the thin cotton. Her nipples hardened under his lustful stare, making obvious indentations in the material.



She turned her back and walked round the bed to where he was sitting, making sure her rotund, voluptuous bum wiggled and jiggled as she walked. As she leaned forward, the hem rose up her sturdy legs showing Richard an almost forbidden sight, the flesh above her stockings!



Leaning forward and grasping his boot so the chemmy gaped, she heard him utter an involuntary gasp as her breasts hung down and he saw their ripe fullness. She looked up and their glances caught.



His boots came off easier than either imagined. Quickly they were lying beside the bed and Amanda was standing between his opened knees. They stared at each other, both aware that the flirting and charade of earlier had ended. Now was the real thing, and both were more than ready.



He reached out and rested his hands on her hips. “Kiss me Amanda?” he asked, both of them being only too aware that would mean she had to lean forward. She did and their mouths converged. He broke the kiss fairly quickly to look at the spectacular sight of her breasts hanging down in front of his face.



His cock lurched. They were truly magnificent! He simply had to touch them.



Amanda looked into his eyes as she dangled her breasts invitingly in front of him. She knew precisely why he had asked her to kiss him and she was most willing to comply with his request. Her breasts were aching for his touch. When that came, her body jerked with pleasure and she groaned with satisfaction.



As they kissed again, Richard slowly ran his hands up from her hips, along her sides, round to her front, inside the gaping, low-cut top of the chemise and right onto the warm, smooth flesh of her two symmetrically, delicious orbs.



For both the man and woman, the first touch of his hands on the bare flesh of her breasts is very special. It’s not only such a dekicious feeling for both parties, but also such a strong indicator of her willingness to give herself to him.



For the woman, the hardening of her nipples indicates her willingness for him to go further as she offers her body and flesh to him. For the man, it is a further step towards invading her body. For both of them it is an explosion of sheer fucking pleasure that rushes through their bodies, causing her female juices to flow and his pre-cum to ooze out from his hardened cock.



As Richard cupped and squeezed her breasts, Amanda knew she might cum just from his touch. So immense were the feelings after such a long time, it was very a close thing. But she fought the feelings, whilst at the same time revelling in what this man, her soon to be new lover, was doing to her body.



“Oh God,” she groaned holding his face in her hands and kissing him as deep as she could.



“Amanda, your breasts are wonderful,” he sighed, one of his hands scrambling to find the hem of the chemise. “Let me see them, I want them.”



His words made Amanda want to flaunt herself at him. Catching his hands in the top, she stood up. Looking right into his eyes with as provocative a gaze as Richard had seen in many a year, she took hold of the mid-thigh hem of the chemise and whispered, “Your word is my command Captain.”



Slowly she pulled the garment up her body. Past her stocking tops, across the patch of skin above them, over her tawny, quite lustrous, pubic hair, through which her pink lips glistened so invitingly, up her flat stomach, narrow waist and lower chest and then marvellously over her big tits. Pulling it over her head, Amanda shook her hair making her breasts wobble in the most erotic manner.



“Well, sir?” she teasingly whispered, striking a highly provocative pose with one knee bent and one hand on her hip with her crotch thrust out towards him. She felt so wonderfully saucy, a feeling exacerbated by being nearly fully exposed before this, almost, fully dressed sea captain.



“If, madam,” he said quietly doing nothing but running his gaze up and down the near naked figure of his passenger, “the ‘well’ refers to my impression of your body, then the answer is you are beautiful, your body is magnificent and you are arouse me completely.”



“Good,” she smiled, running the palms of her hands lightly across her hardened nipples.



“But if, madam, the ‘well’ refers to what next, to what I would like to do next…?”



“Yes Captain it does that too,” she interrupted with a delicious giggle.



“Then, Missus Williams, I intend to have the pleasure of fucking you right here and now. Tell me, ma’am. Would you like to be well and truly fucked by your Captain?”



Another, deeper, surge of arousal ran through Amanda. It wasn’t a question that needed a spoken answer. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Richard full on the lips. In a few seconds his cock would be inside her and after seven months of abstinence, she’d willingly abandon herself to the sexual whims of this experienced sea dog.



Naked, apart from her stockings, Amanda broke the kiss and stepped back two paces. With graceful ease, she performed a deep curtsy, of the type she had learned before being introduced to Queen Victoria last year. Placing her right foot slightly apart from the left, with the toes on level with the heel on her left foot, she bent both knees, slowly going further and further downwards until her right knee almost touched the floor.



Her rotund bottom stuck out invitingly behind and her breasts, now seeming to be presented to the floor, hung down from her chest emphasising their weight and size and seeming to cry out for a hand or two to cup them.



Richard watched this fascinating display combining the extreme etiquette of a royal bow, with the near nudity of a soon to be lover, with increasing excitement.



“Humbly sir, may I have your permission to speak my mind?” she asked provocatively.



“Of course madam, pray do,” Richard answered, his throat dry and his voice croaky with excitement.



Amanda looked up from her position of supplication, caught and held Richard’s gaze and said in a measured, calm and confident voice. “Then with your kind permission sir, I humbly advise that you fucking me will provide me with the greatest of pleasures.”



Hearing such a word as ‘fucking’ slip from between her lovely lips was an enormous turn on. It was so rare in his world, but not so in the one that Amanda had inhabited, for a lady to swear at all, let alone talk about herself being fucked.



He felt his already hard cock grow another couple of inches “Would madam remain bowed like that?” he asked. Of course, sir, madam is at your command. But pray sir,” she added as she saw him stand up. “If I may be so bold to ask, why?”



She watched as Richard’s fingers undid the tie round his waist and then the bone buttons of his flies.



“Because of this madam,” he said sliding his trousers and drawers down and stepping out of them.



Amanda was disappointed that his long muslin shirt covered his manhood.



“I see,” she muttered, not being able to think of anything wittier, due to her level of excitement mounting as she watched the tail of his shirt slowly rising up his body as he lifted it over his head.

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