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Against All Odds: A Gilded Age Romance
- Thread starter Barbaria1
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- humour punishment romance sex
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I bet he had!
Swedish always sounds so erotically raw ... whereas French is the linguistic version of 'Romance' A Scandinavian language is the expressive equivalent of 'Rough Sex' ... wonderful
Way too late Miss Moore
We can only hope so
Another wonderfully panoramic chapter Barb!
The two sides of Miss Moore in this terrific piece ...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Being a barrier pays for him!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
This account catches the very moment of birth of the soon succesful trade of blue state mail order brides.
I feel a sense of deja vu...
A new meaning to the term 'Job satisfaction... '
Well, she had to learn her demerit skills from somewhere!
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 10.
After his most unsatisfying conversation with Pellegrino, Stan gave some serious thought over the next few days as to his chances of ever speaking with, let alone courting, Miss Barbara Moore. The girl was kept under lock and key by her father who obviously was looking to betroth her to a scion of New York high society, not a Jew from Toledo, Ohio.
It was sad, Stan thought, because actually he and James Moore had much more in common than Moore would likely admit. Both had come up from humble backgrounds in the Midwest, one to great wealth and one to at least a comfortable existence. Both were looking for acceptance in the Big City. And both loved, in their own very different ways, Barbara.
The truth is that Stan felt he would probably make a better husband for Barbara and give her a more interesting and rewarding life than the dull, stuck-up young men to whom Moore hoped to marry off his daughter despite her obvious disinterest in any of them.
But, Stan was enough of a realist to accept that what made sense was often not what the world deemed sensible. Now at the end of a busy and profitable week, with the prospect of more profit tomorrow at the Saturday races at Morris Park, where Stan had some interesting information regarding some of the horses running in the fifth race, Stan’s loneliness and animal spirits led him to the familiar confines of Rose Callahan’s establishment.
There, one did not have to scheme one’s way around domineering fathers and crooked desk clerks and Swedish chambermaids to earn the attentions of attractive young women. There one only needed a sufficient amount of filthy lucre, which Stan was fortunate to possess, at least for the moment, to satisfy one’s lusts.
He approached Rose’s door, giving the secret one long and two short knocks, and was admitted to the parlor. Rose, smelling of the scent derived from her namesake flower, liberally applied, greeted him warmly. “Ah, Mr. Goldman, it’s been too long since your last visit. Brigid has been asking about you.”
“I have been busy with work, unfortunately,” Stan replied. “You have perhaps heard of the recently implemented clearinghouse at the exchange?”
“Indeed I have,” Rose replied, smiling. She was an astute investor who occasionally provided Stan with some worthwhile information she acquired from some of her clients. “Well now that the work week is done, you surely could use some relaxation. I assume you would like to visit with Brigid?”
“Yes, certainly,” Stan replied.
“She is bathing, but will not be too much longer. In the meantime, why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable? Perhaps you would like something to drink?”
“That would be lovely. A whisky, please, Rose.” Stan installed himself in a comfortable leather armchair as Rose went to pour him his whisky.
No sooner had Rose left, then Stan got a start. A young woman came in and for a moment, in the dim light, he thought it was her-Barbara Moore! She was young, perhaps 18 or 19, of medium height, with brown shoulder length hair and the innocent Midwestern face that he admired in Barbara. Then, as she passed by him, he could see that despite the resemblance, it was not her. She left the room and climbed the stairs leading to the bedrooms where the women of the house slept and entertained clients.
Stan shook his head. ‘How could I have possibly imagined even for the briefest of moments that Barbara Moore would be found in a place such as this?’ he thought. ‘I am truly an idiot.’
Rose entered with his whisky, which Stan drained in one large gulp, feeling it burn as it went down.
“It must have been a very busy week indeed. Would you like another?” Rose asked.
Stan nodded, but reached out to take Rose’s arm before she could turn away. “Who was that girl who passed through here?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Ah, you must mean Emily,” Rose replied. “She has joined us only very recently. She arrived in New York a month or so ago from Minnesota.”
“Minnesota?” Stan asked, his head spinning at the co-incidence.
“Yes, there’s nothing unusual about that. These girls come from all over to make their fortune in the big city. Emily was hoping to act on the stage, but all the directors wanted to do was sample her obvious charms. I found her broke and hungry in Union Square and convinced her that if she was going to have to deal with the lustful passions of the male of the species, she might as well get paid for her troubles.”
Stan swallowed hard. “Would it be possible, Rose,” he asked, “To give my apologies to Brigid and pass some time with Emily?”
Rose laughed. “Love at first sight! You really are a romantic, Mr. Goldman! Unfortunately, Emily has been booked for tonight by another gentleman, a man of, shall we say, particular tastes.”
“Meaning?”
Rose thought for a moment. “Rather than explain, perhaps it would be interesting for you to observe. The room we shall use is in the basement and there is a curtained off area at the rear corner where you can observe through a slit in the fabric undetected as long as you are silent. I would ask that you make a small additional contribution, which I have reason to believe you will find to be money well spent.”
“Would $ 10 extra suffice?” he asked.
Rose smiled as Stan handed her the money. Then, she led him downstairs and into a small curtained off area that looked out on a larger space. “Sit right here on the floor,” Rose instructed. Stan looked at her, puzzled by this unusual request.
“A chair might make noise if you move,” she told him.
Once Stan had sat, she pulled back a bit of the edge of one panel of the thick velvet curtain and pinned it back, making a tiny slit that Stan could look through that would be very hard to notice from the other side unless one were looking for it.
“Give me your shoes,” Rose ordered. Stan slipped them off and handed them to her. “Whenever you feel you have seen enough to satisfy your curiosity, tiptoe silently through the entrance we came in by and go upstairs. Brigid will await you in her room. I will be seated in that chair at the far end of the room to make sure that things don’t go too far. And remember, quiet as a mouse.”
Stan wondered what she meant by that remark about things going too far, but she had slipped out before he could ask, so he sat patiently wondering what strange goings on he was about to witness. His curiosity was piqued further when Rose and Mary, the woman who cooked and cleaned for the girls, brought in a strange looking apparatus, a sort of large stool, quite heavy, built of very solid wood, with an ample padded top and leather straps attached to each of the legs. They deposited it in the center of the room and left.
‘What in God’s name is that?’ Stan wondered.
His question was soon answered. A heavy set man came in, wearing only an undershirt above his striped trousers. Stan thought he greatly resembled one of the Tammany Hall aldermen whose picture appeared now and then in the newspapers.
The man was dragging a very reluctant Emily, clad only in a shift, by one arm with Rose pushing the girl from behind. “I didn’t take your gold watch, Mr. Jackson, honest I didn’t. You left it on my nightstand last night and I didn’t notice it until now,” the girl exclaimed. She seemed to be near tears.
Stan was fairly sure that the alderman’s name wasn’t Jackson, though his actual name escaped him at the moment.
“Nonsense, you little thief!” the man exclaimed. “You whores will steal anything that isn’t nailed down. Now you’re going to pay!”
The girl looked at Rose. “Please Mrs. Callahan, you must believe me. I’m an honest Midwestern farm girl, fallen on hard times, is all.”
Rose shook her head. “Emily, when you steal from my customers, you steal from me. Now you’d best take your punishment and get it over with.” Stan had the sense that this story was an act; after all Emily did have ambitions for the stage. Nevertheless her fear of what that punishment would entail seemed quite real.
“You heard her, you little minx,” the man said. “Now let’s have that shift off.”
“No, please! I’m innocent!” she protested. Rose grabbed the hem of the shift and pulled it over Emily’s head.
Stan stared through the slit in the curtain open-mouthed at the girl’s naked body. Her breasts were smaller than Brigid’s but very shapely. Her waist was slim and her legs were most attractive. But what truly caught Stan’s eyes as she turned away in her struggles was her very tight and delectable bottom.
It called up for him, the bottom of Barbara Moore as she had passed him that evening in Delmonico’s. This was how he imagined she would look stripped of her dress and corset and girdle, a condition in which he would certainly never lay eyes upon her.
Emily was struggling, kicking out futilely as the alderman and Rose maneuvered her to the stool and bent her over, giving Stan a perfectly wonderful view of her ass. The alderman held her down as Rose knelt and attached leather straps around each of the girl’s ankles and wrists.
Stan found her struggles and the end result of her complete vulnerability, displayed on the stool, her ass up in the air, very arousing. He wanted very badly to loosen his trousers and free his thickening cock, but he didn’t dare to move for fear of attracting attention.
Rose went to a small cabinet on the wall opposite Stan and returned with a thick leather strap with a heavy wooden handle, such as barbers used to hone their razors. She showed it to the alderman. “Will this do for your purposes?”
“Aye, that should be quite adequate to teach this little tart not to steal,” he replied taking hold of the handle and waving it about. Rose brought the chair and placed it right in front of Emily and seated herself in it.
The alderman took his stance a few feet behind the girl, and, without further ado, raised the strap and smacked it down hard across the girl’s nether cheeks. It made a loud slapping sound that reverberated through the basement room.
Emily gave a loud shriek and pulled against the straps that held her, trying desperately, but futilely, to escape the further blows she knew were coming. The man struck again, with the full force of his arm.
“Oww!“ Emily screamed. Her ass was gyrating wildly, a sight which caused Stan’s prick to harden further.
After the third blow she was begging plaintively, “Please, sir, enough! It hurts so awfully!”
Her pleas continued through the next few blows. By this point the skin of her bottom was glowing bright red. Stan was staring wide-eyed, imagining that it was Barbara Moore suffering on that stool. His cock was aching and he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing it just a bit through his trousers, though he held off from stimulating it too much, knowing that Brigid awaited upstairs.
The alderman delivered another vicious blow square across Emily’s cheeks. “Oh, God! Oh, no more! I beg you!”
“Apologize to him, Emily,” Rose advised her.
Stan had little doubt that the girl was innocent of the theft. Would she admit to something she hadn’t done to save herself further suffering?
He struck again, twice in succession. That was sufficient to break her resistance. “I’m sorry!” the poor girl wailed.
“Sorry for what?” her punisher demanded.
“I’m sorry for stealing your watch,” she sobbed.
“Ah, so you admit it?” he said. “I knew it, you little thieving whore!” He raised the strap and snapped the supple leather hard across her bottom.
“Ohhh! “ Emily howled, beside herself with pain.
He raised it to strike again. Rose stood, holding up her hand. “That’s enough. She’s admitted her offense and apologized.”
The man handed the strap to Rose, quickly lowered his trousers and undergarments and mounted the helpless Emily and began rutting away like a stallion.
That was the point at which Stan decided he had seen enough. His cock was aching and he needed immediate relief. He stood as quietly as he could, though he doubted the man was noticing anything besides the pleasure he was taking from Emily’s nether parts. He slipped out into the corridor and hurried up the stairs to Brigid’s room.
She was lying in bed naked, awaiting him. Stan had never in his life disrobed so quickly. He ached to be inside her and wasted no time satisfying that need. He fucked her hard, thrusting desperately and soon felt that electric charge in his groin. With not a moment to spare, he pulled out and shot a massive load all over her belly and breasts.
Afterwards, he lay beside her and told her what he had witnessed in the basement.
“Yes,” Brigid said, “There are men who like that sort of thing. They pay handsomely, of course.”
“Have you ever?” he asked.
“A couple of times when I first came to work for Mrs. Callahan. But not lately, thank goodness.”
“Does it really hurt as much as it seems to?” Stan asked.
“More,” Brigid replied. “I can promise you, Emily may have been acting about the watch, but not about the pain.”
Stan shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine hurting a woman like that.”
“Well, the funny thing is,” Brigid replied, “I can’t speak for Emily, but for me, as much as it hurt, it was also a bit, I don’t know, exciting.”
“Exciting?” Stan asked, “Exciting how?”
“You know,” Brigid touched her female parts, “Down there, like.”
“You mean you would want me to do that to you?” Stan asked, a bit shocked.
“Not with the strap or the cane,” Brigid replied. “Those hurt terribly. But maybe with your hand.”
“Oh, really? Now?” Stan asked.
“Did you have another time in mind?”
“Not really,” he said, feeling himself stiffening.
He sat up and Brigid slid her naked body face down onto his lap. His cock was pressed against her crotch. Stan raised his hand and smacked it gently across her buttocks. She squirmed against his erection.
“You can do it a bit harder,” she said. He did and she squirmed some more. The sight of her jiggling butt flesh and the stimulation of her skin against his prick were quite delightful.
After a few more slaps, her lower cheeks were a nice rosy pink and he was hard as a rock. Brigid slid down further and began licking his throbbing cock. He reached his hand down, feeling the heat of her ass cheeks. Soon, Stan was gasping as he shot more of his male essence into her soft, moist mouth.
After his most unsatisfying conversation with Pellegrino, Stan gave some serious thought over the next few days as to his chances of ever speaking with, let alone courting, Miss Barbara Moore. The girl was kept under lock and key by her father who obviously was looking to betroth her to a scion of New York high society, not a Jew from Toledo, Ohio.
It was sad, Stan thought, because actually he and James Moore had much more in common than Moore would likely admit. Both had come up from humble backgrounds in the Midwest, one to great wealth and one to at least a comfortable existence. Both were looking for acceptance in the Big City. And both loved, in their own very different ways, Barbara.
The truth is that Stan felt he would probably make a better husband for Barbara and give her a more interesting and rewarding life than the dull, stuck-up young men to whom Moore hoped to marry off his daughter despite her obvious disinterest in any of them.
But, Stan was enough of a realist to accept that what made sense was often not what the world deemed sensible. Now at the end of a busy and profitable week, with the prospect of more profit tomorrow at the Saturday races at Morris Park, where Stan had some interesting information regarding some of the horses running in the fifth race, Stan’s loneliness and animal spirits led him to the familiar confines of Rose Callahan’s establishment.
There, one did not have to scheme one’s way around domineering fathers and crooked desk clerks and Swedish chambermaids to earn the attentions of attractive young women. There one only needed a sufficient amount of filthy lucre, which Stan was fortunate to possess, at least for the moment, to satisfy one’s lusts.
He approached Rose’s door, giving the secret one long and two short knocks, and was admitted to the parlor. Rose, smelling of the scent derived from her namesake flower, liberally applied, greeted him warmly. “Ah, Mr. Goldman, it’s been too long since your last visit. Brigid has been asking about you.”
“I have been busy with work, unfortunately,” Stan replied. “You have perhaps heard of the recently implemented clearinghouse at the exchange?”
“Indeed I have,” Rose replied, smiling. She was an astute investor who occasionally provided Stan with some worthwhile information she acquired from some of her clients. “Well now that the work week is done, you surely could use some relaxation. I assume you would like to visit with Brigid?”
“Yes, certainly,” Stan replied.
“She is bathing, but will not be too much longer. In the meantime, why don’t you sit down and make yourself comfortable? Perhaps you would like something to drink?”
“That would be lovely. A whisky, please, Rose.” Stan installed himself in a comfortable leather armchair as Rose went to pour him his whisky.
No sooner had Rose left, then Stan got a start. A young woman came in and for a moment, in the dim light, he thought it was her-Barbara Moore! She was young, perhaps 18 or 19, of medium height, with brown shoulder length hair and the innocent Midwestern face that he admired in Barbara. Then, as she passed by him, he could see that despite the resemblance, it was not her. She left the room and climbed the stairs leading to the bedrooms where the women of the house slept and entertained clients.
Stan shook his head. ‘How could I have possibly imagined even for the briefest of moments that Barbara Moore would be found in a place such as this?’ he thought. ‘I am truly an idiot.’
Rose entered with his whisky, which Stan drained in one large gulp, feeling it burn as it went down.
“It must have been a very busy week indeed. Would you like another?” Rose asked.
Stan nodded, but reached out to take Rose’s arm before she could turn away. “Who was that girl who passed through here?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Ah, you must mean Emily,” Rose replied. “She has joined us only very recently. She arrived in New York a month or so ago from Minnesota.”
“Minnesota?” Stan asked, his head spinning at the co-incidence.
“Yes, there’s nothing unusual about that. These girls come from all over to make their fortune in the big city. Emily was hoping to act on the stage, but all the directors wanted to do was sample her obvious charms. I found her broke and hungry in Union Square and convinced her that if she was going to have to deal with the lustful passions of the male of the species, she might as well get paid for her troubles.”
Stan swallowed hard. “Would it be possible, Rose,” he asked, “To give my apologies to Brigid and pass some time with Emily?”
Rose laughed. “Love at first sight! You really are a romantic, Mr. Goldman! Unfortunately, Emily has been booked for tonight by another gentleman, a man of, shall we say, particular tastes.”
“Meaning?”
Rose thought for a moment. “Rather than explain, perhaps it would be interesting for you to observe. The room we shall use is in the basement and there is a curtained off area at the rear corner where you can observe through a slit in the fabric undetected as long as you are silent. I would ask that you make a small additional contribution, which I have reason to believe you will find to be money well spent.”
“Would $ 10 extra suffice?” he asked.
Rose smiled as Stan handed her the money. Then, she led him downstairs and into a small curtained off area that looked out on a larger space. “Sit right here on the floor,” Rose instructed. Stan looked at her, puzzled by this unusual request.
“A chair might make noise if you move,” she told him.
Once Stan had sat, she pulled back a bit of the edge of one panel of the thick velvet curtain and pinned it back, making a tiny slit that Stan could look through that would be very hard to notice from the other side unless one were looking for it.
“Give me your shoes,” Rose ordered. Stan slipped them off and handed them to her. “Whenever you feel you have seen enough to satisfy your curiosity, tiptoe silently through the entrance we came in by and go upstairs. Brigid will await you in her room. I will be seated in that chair at the far end of the room to make sure that things don’t go too far. And remember, quiet as a mouse.”
Stan wondered what she meant by that remark about things going too far, but she had slipped out before he could ask, so he sat patiently wondering what strange goings on he was about to witness. His curiosity was piqued further when Rose and Mary, the woman who cooked and cleaned for the girls, brought in a strange looking apparatus, a sort of large stool, quite heavy, built of very solid wood, with an ample padded top and leather straps attached to each of the legs. They deposited it in the center of the room and left.
‘What in God’s name is that?’ Stan wondered.
His question was soon answered. A heavy set man came in, wearing only an undershirt above his striped trousers. Stan thought he greatly resembled one of the Tammany Hall aldermen whose picture appeared now and then in the newspapers.
The man was dragging a very reluctant Emily, clad only in a shift, by one arm with Rose pushing the girl from behind. “I didn’t take your gold watch, Mr. Jackson, honest I didn’t. You left it on my nightstand last night and I didn’t notice it until now,” the girl exclaimed. She seemed to be near tears.
Stan was fairly sure that the alderman’s name wasn’t Jackson, though his actual name escaped him at the moment.
“Nonsense, you little thief!” the man exclaimed. “You whores will steal anything that isn’t nailed down. Now you’re going to pay!”
The girl looked at Rose. “Please Mrs. Callahan, you must believe me. I’m an honest Midwestern farm girl, fallen on hard times, is all.”
Rose shook her head. “Emily, when you steal from my customers, you steal from me. Now you’d best take your punishment and get it over with.” Stan had the sense that this story was an act; after all Emily did have ambitions for the stage. Nevertheless her fear of what that punishment would entail seemed quite real.
“You heard her, you little minx,” the man said. “Now let’s have that shift off.”
“No, please! I’m innocent!” she protested. Rose grabbed the hem of the shift and pulled it over Emily’s head.
Stan stared through the slit in the curtain open-mouthed at the girl’s naked body. Her breasts were smaller than Brigid’s but very shapely. Her waist was slim and her legs were most attractive. But what truly caught Stan’s eyes as she turned away in her struggles was her very tight and delectable bottom.
It called up for him, the bottom of Barbara Moore as she had passed him that evening in Delmonico’s. This was how he imagined she would look stripped of her dress and corset and girdle, a condition in which he would certainly never lay eyes upon her.
Emily was struggling, kicking out futilely as the alderman and Rose maneuvered her to the stool and bent her over, giving Stan a perfectly wonderful view of her ass. The alderman held her down as Rose knelt and attached leather straps around each of the girl’s ankles and wrists.
Stan found her struggles and the end result of her complete vulnerability, displayed on the stool, her ass up in the air, very arousing. He wanted very badly to loosen his trousers and free his thickening cock, but he didn’t dare to move for fear of attracting attention.
Rose went to a small cabinet on the wall opposite Stan and returned with a thick leather strap with a heavy wooden handle, such as barbers used to hone their razors. She showed it to the alderman. “Will this do for your purposes?”
“Aye, that should be quite adequate to teach this little tart not to steal,” he replied taking hold of the handle and waving it about. Rose brought the chair and placed it right in front of Emily and seated herself in it.
The alderman took his stance a few feet behind the girl, and, without further ado, raised the strap and smacked it down hard across the girl’s nether cheeks. It made a loud slapping sound that reverberated through the basement room.
Emily gave a loud shriek and pulled against the straps that held her, trying desperately, but futilely, to escape the further blows she knew were coming. The man struck again, with the full force of his arm.
“Oww!“ Emily screamed. Her ass was gyrating wildly, a sight which caused Stan’s prick to harden further.
After the third blow she was begging plaintively, “Please, sir, enough! It hurts so awfully!”
Her pleas continued through the next few blows. By this point the skin of her bottom was glowing bright red. Stan was staring wide-eyed, imagining that it was Barbara Moore suffering on that stool. His cock was aching and he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing it just a bit through his trousers, though he held off from stimulating it too much, knowing that Brigid awaited upstairs.
The alderman delivered another vicious blow square across Emily’s cheeks. “Oh, God! Oh, no more! I beg you!”
“Apologize to him, Emily,” Rose advised her.
Stan had little doubt that the girl was innocent of the theft. Would she admit to something she hadn’t done to save herself further suffering?
He struck again, twice in succession. That was sufficient to break her resistance. “I’m sorry!” the poor girl wailed.
“Sorry for what?” her punisher demanded.
“I’m sorry for stealing your watch,” she sobbed.
“Ah, so you admit it?” he said. “I knew it, you little thieving whore!” He raised the strap and snapped the supple leather hard across her bottom.
“Ohhh! “ Emily howled, beside herself with pain.
He raised it to strike again. Rose stood, holding up her hand. “That’s enough. She’s admitted her offense and apologized.”
The man handed the strap to Rose, quickly lowered his trousers and undergarments and mounted the helpless Emily and began rutting away like a stallion.
That was the point at which Stan decided he had seen enough. His cock was aching and he needed immediate relief. He stood as quietly as he could, though he doubted the man was noticing anything besides the pleasure he was taking from Emily’s nether parts. He slipped out into the corridor and hurried up the stairs to Brigid’s room.
She was lying in bed naked, awaiting him. Stan had never in his life disrobed so quickly. He ached to be inside her and wasted no time satisfying that need. He fucked her hard, thrusting desperately and soon felt that electric charge in his groin. With not a moment to spare, he pulled out and shot a massive load all over her belly and breasts.
***
Afterwards, he lay beside her and told her what he had witnessed in the basement.
“Yes,” Brigid said, “There are men who like that sort of thing. They pay handsomely, of course.”
“Have you ever?” he asked.
“A couple of times when I first came to work for Mrs. Callahan. But not lately, thank goodness.”
“Does it really hurt as much as it seems to?” Stan asked.
“More,” Brigid replied. “I can promise you, Emily may have been acting about the watch, but not about the pain.”
Stan shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine hurting a woman like that.”
“Well, the funny thing is,” Brigid replied, “I can’t speak for Emily, but for me, as much as it hurt, it was also a bit, I don’t know, exciting.”
“Exciting?” Stan asked, “Exciting how?”
“You know,” Brigid touched her female parts, “Down there, like.”
“You mean you would want me to do that to you?” Stan asked, a bit shocked.
“Not with the strap or the cane,” Brigid replied. “Those hurt terribly. But maybe with your hand.”
“Oh, really? Now?” Stan asked.
“Did you have another time in mind?”
“Not really,” he said, feeling himself stiffening.
He sat up and Brigid slid her naked body face down onto his lap. His cock was pressed against her crotch. Stan raised his hand and smacked it gently across her buttocks. She squirmed against his erection.
“You can do it a bit harder,” she said. He did and she squirmed some more. The sight of her jiggling butt flesh and the stimulation of her skin against his prick were quite delightful.
After a few more slaps, her lower cheeks were a nice rosy pink and he was hard as a rock. Brigid slid down further and began licking his throbbing cock. He reached his hand down, feeling the heat of her ass cheeks. Soon, Stan was gasping as he shot more of his male essence into her soft, moist mouth.
windar
Teller of Tales
Notes on Chapter 10
Tammany Hall began as a social club in 1789 and soon rose to play a dominant role in the politics of New York City and the State as a whole. They linked themselves to Aaron Burr and the Democratic-Republican Party of Thomas Jefferson, in opposition to John Adams' and Alexander Hamilton's Federalists who were supported by the Clintons (no relation to the President of that name).
Although they began as a society of "pure Americans", Tammany Hall grew powerful by welcoming immigrants, especially the Irish, and eventually linking themselves to the Catholic Church.
They were certainly corrupt (see the Thomas Nast cartoon, Tammany Ring; the caption is "Who stole the people's money? "'Twas him."
That said, they also served as a social welfare society for recently arrived immigrants in the era before Social Security and other public programs and presided over numerous public projects like the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park and the merger of the various boroughs into one city.The most famous leader of Tammany Hall was William "Boss" Tweed who ruled in the period around the Civil War.
Around the time our story takes place there were several investigations into corruption in city government and the police force (as has been exposed in this story), led by a committee backed by many of the Gilded Age's wealthiest men. The scandals temporarily diminished Tammany's power, but they soon bounced back and remained a force to be reckoned with into the 1960s.
Tammany Hall began as a social club in 1789 and soon rose to play a dominant role in the politics of New York City and the State as a whole. They linked themselves to Aaron Burr and the Democratic-Republican Party of Thomas Jefferson, in opposition to John Adams' and Alexander Hamilton's Federalists who were supported by the Clintons (no relation to the President of that name).
Although they began as a society of "pure Americans", Tammany Hall grew powerful by welcoming immigrants, especially the Irish, and eventually linking themselves to the Catholic Church.
They were certainly corrupt (see the Thomas Nast cartoon, Tammany Ring; the caption is "Who stole the people's money? "'Twas him."
That said, they also served as a social welfare society for recently arrived immigrants in the era before Social Security and other public programs and presided over numerous public projects like the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park and the merger of the various boroughs into one city.The most famous leader of Tammany Hall was William "Boss" Tweed who ruled in the period around the Civil War.
Around the time our story takes place there were several investigations into corruption in city government and the police force (as has been exposed in this story), led by a committee backed by many of the Gilded Age's wealthiest men. The scandals temporarily diminished Tammany's power, but they soon bounced back and remained a force to be reckoned with into the 1960s.
windar
Teller of Tales
Wow, I had to look up "doxy". It says it's "archaic" (like some of us, I guess
) for prostitute, mistress or lover. So that's brilliant! After all, not much else rhymes with "proxy", except maybe "epoxy" which can have its uses in these situations, I guess...This site is truly educational!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
What a superb chapter Windy. It appears that Barbara might actually have a half-sister, or some such relative, that she was previously unaware of.
Which girl with the 'Moore genes' will Stan turn to now, the one to which he aspires or the one that he could readily have?
Perhaps both ... can't wait to find out!
Which girl with the 'Moore genes' will Stan turn to now, the one to which he aspires or the one that he could readily have?
Perhaps both ... can't wait to find out!
Last edited:
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Recalling :
A Tale of Two Barbs: A Pirate Cay Adventure
Soooo, Here we go again, fans. A tale … this time of two Barbs … not one … that takes us back once again to that lovely Caribbean Isle known as Pirate Cay, courtesy of yours truly in partnership with that scoundrel talented CF writer who calls himself Windar. Enjoy! 1. Stepping out of the...
www.cruxforums.com
Minnesota is a real breeding place for Barbs!
Minnesota is where all the women are good-looking, and all the men are above average … the perfect breeding place for blue state beauties with attitude!Recalling :
A Tale of Two Barbs: A Pirate Cay Adventure
Soooo, Here we go again, fans. A tale … this time of two Barbs … not one … that takes us back once again to that lovely Caribbean Isle known as Pirate Cay, courtesy of yours truly in partnership with that scoundrel talented CF writer who calls himself Windar. Enjoy! 1. Stepping out of the...www.cruxforums.com
Minnesota is a real breeding place for Barbs!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Minnesota, the blue state mail order bride megastore, as they say in Arkansas!
windar
Teller of Tales
And yet, Moore Sr. brought his daughter to New York to marry her off...
Incomprehensible
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
My first thought was about this Berkley Horse:
Maybe, Rose should invest to acquire this exciting piece of furniture!?
The closest I can imagine of such a dildo is something like this :
But is not yet painted?
