1834
Episode 2. Landfall
Siss and I spend the next two days languishing in the brig, sprawled next to each other on a filthy matting of straw, naked and in chains.
Our wounds from the vicious flogging we had received slowly begin to heal. By the second day they no longer appear as frightful as they had at first; the angry red crisscross stripes on our backsides have turned to pink and have started to fade.
As we regain strength, we find ourselves making love often, stopping only from exhaustion or when our jailers come to offer us scraps of food and drink. We constantly hunger for food and each other.
As I lay now on my back with one knee raised, I watch as Siss' sweet juices – smeared along the entire length of my thigh – glisten in the first morning light. She stirs and snuggles closer to me.
Turning toward me she gently mounds my right breast in her hand and begins to lick teasingly around my erect nipple. I smooth her tangled blonde hair with my hand, and affectionately kiss the top of her head.
Humming a little folk ditty she moves to my other breast to kiss and tug playfully at my other nipple. Feeling that familiar tingle deep inside me, I sigh contentedly, laying my head back in the straw and closing my eyes dreamily.
As Siss moves back and forth with her kissing, nibbling and sucking, my mind wanders back to the day I first arrived in London several months ago.
Fresh from the countryside, I wandered the bustling city, my eyes dazzled by the many wonders of the place I had only heard stories about. It all seemed so new and exciting!
After several days, however, my wonder and happiness had evaporated. I was lonely, tired, and had just spent the last of the little money I had on what turned out to be a rotten apple.
Suddenly jarred back to the present, I moan as Siss plants hot little kisses along the swelling sides and on the soft undersides of my breasts; I respond by tracing the gentle curve of her hip with my fingertip, before falling back into my reverie.
My life in London had soon fallen into despair and desperation. I could find no work and no one seemed to care about me.
Then one evening a man approached me and asked me if I was looking for work. I said yes and naively followed him into a back alley, where he and three others promptly threw me to the ground, tore away my clothing, and brutally raped me again and again. No one heard my screams, or cared to answer my cries for help.
But then my life changed for the better. As I sat huddled on the street, clutching my torn and tattered clothing to my body, a blonde girl suddenly plopped herself down beside me. Smiling at me, she said I looked like I needed a friend. We talked and after a while she took my hand and led me off.
I soon learned that she too had come to London from back home, and that, unlike me, she had learned quickly how to survive in the city. She found me clothing, cleaned me up, and together over the next few weeks we made a tidy little living for ourselves mostly through petty crime. Siss was clever and devious; she had a million tricks up her sleeve. We had fun, fell in love, and became inseparable. Life seemed good.
As I ponder this, I feel Siss' hot little kisses now moving down my ribs and I hear her chains rustling as she shifts her position. I grab her by the hair, and as I feel my tummy tightening and sense my growing wetness, I push her head down on me, my heart racing as her relentless kissing continues.
Unfortunately, our life of crime and happiness in London came to an abrupt end one dark night when we were caught stealing food from a small shop. Hunger seems to always be our undoing. We were hauled off to Gaol, thrown overnight in a cell with dozens of others, and dragged before a magistrate the next day. He took one look at us and promptly sentenced us both to be hanged.
But he also offered us the option of being deported to a penal colony. We looked at each other, and quickly nodded our agreement. The next day we boarded HMS Malevolent, which after stopping to pick up additional cargo and passengers at various ports of call, finally set sail for Australia from Bristol.
Ohhhhhhh my God. Siss has reached my mound with her relentless kissing. I shudder with rapidly rising passion.
Siss suddenly lifts her body over mine and slides herself down between my spreading legs to plant kisses along my inner thighs, starting at my knees and moving slowly...left and right... inexorably upward....left and right.......... Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
An hour later the door to the brig bursts open. "Land ho!" yells the first sailor through the door. "On your feet my sweet little hussies! Everyone up on deck. Time to see your new home!"
We are quickly unshackled and given some tattered rags to wear. As the sailors gather around to watch us dress, Siss sasses them,“Aye! What’s with the rags? You lads been keeping them for a bit of play time? This one looks like he fancies a bit of lace, don’t ya’ think Barb?”
Dressed, more or less, we scurry up on deck, excited to see what our destination looks like. The sea has calmed and our ship is nosing into a deep cove. Our eyes are met by a bleak winter landscape. It is June and the Australian winter has begun.
Ahead we can make out the infamous penal colony at Marquarie Harbour. It is not impressive looking…nothing but a scattering of buildings; people visible on the docks, and here and there … certainly a far cry from London, or from the lush green hills of Cornwall.
“They could have fixed the place up a little for us … what a pit!” Siss says dryly.
The prisoners are being formed up for disembarkation now as the ship nears the docks. Officers are shouting orders; sailors are running to and fro. We are lined up two by two, Siss and I side by side halfway down the column. Shackles are attached to everyone’s ankles as we wait for our ship to tie up.
Regarding the sailor attaching irons to her feet and looking surreptitiously under her shift and up her legs with a wry smile, Says cracks, “Take a good look now! That’s the last Sassy you’ll be seein’!!”
We stagger as the ship bumps the dock. Lines are thrown; a gangplank is swung in place.
The column of prisoners begins moving. We pass the quarter deck, with all the genteel folk looking disdainfully down on us. I spot the Vicar’s wife, standing next to her mousy little husband, glaring menacingly at us.
I see her husband furtively staring at the long tear in the side of my shift, and all it reveals, as I shuffle by. I look away, and instinctively and protectively reach over and pull into place the torn flap of fabric that reveals half of Siss’ bum.
Siss glances back at me knowingly, and says with a nod toward the shrew, “She a randy one ain’t she?”
We descend down the gangplank, shuffling along until our feet touch the dock. We have arrived.
On the dock we are turned over en masse to our new handlers. There are a lot of them and they are a cruel looking lot. Every one of them brandishes a whip in his hand.
The man in charge addresses us. Sneeringly, he welcomes us to our new life, “You will work hard here; any slacking will not be tolerated. Escape is impossible. No one who has tried it has ever survived in the bush, or has drowned trying to swim away from the island. All infractions of the rules are punishable, and punishment is severe. Major offenses here are punishable by execution. You are all living on borrowed time here. We can choose to end it for you anytime we choose. Now get your sorry asses up the hill and inside the compound. Move it! NOW!”
We head off to the camp, trudging along in file. And as we enter, we get the first shock of the day. Hanging upside down, naked from a pole at the entrance to the compound are a man and a woman, their bodies covered with marks of the whip.
Turning to me Siss cries, “Sweet Jesus!!!”
.
TO BE CONTINUED...
