Breaking news: Gwendolyn now drawing ahead of Elisabeth on the loathometer!
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Mario's well behind. He's just a loveable rogue. At least, Kristina seems to think so!
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Against All Odds: A Gilded Age Romance
- Thread starter Barbaria1
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Doragon
Tribune
The poor doctor makes so many sacrifces: in order to teach the girls how to suppress their libido, he has to suffer the increase of his own. Such devotion....
windar
Teller of Tales
Chapter 30.
Stan sat back in the Pullman coach as the train made its way along the eastern shore of the Hudson. It was late afternoon on a pleasant summer Saturday, a day when, but for the incident with Barbara that had gotten him banned from the track, he might have been earning his keep betting on the horses at Saratoga.
Instead, he was voyaging in search of his lost love, who had been exiled to some Institute that was supposedly going to cure her of the very spunky spirit that had made him fall for her and caused her to fall for him.
Earlier that day, he had presented himself at the desk at the Plaza Hotel and accosted Mario Pellegrino. “Ah, Mr. Goldman, how nice to see you,” the slimy bastard had greeted him.
Stan had crooked his finger. “I think this is a conversation we should have outside, Mario,” he had said.
“But, I’m on duty,” Mario had protested.
“Take a five minute break. Have one of these other gentlemen cover for you. Things don’t look too busy right now,” Stan had said. “I’ll meet you out front.”
There, Stan had come straight to the point. “Listen, Pellegrino, I happened to encounter Kristina, a former employee of yours, and she spilled the beans all about your goings on with her and Barbara Moore.”
Mario had blanched visibly, but had quickly regained his poise. “What goings on? Where did you encounter Kristina, may I ask?”
“None of your business. But I got the whole story. You watched her and the lovely Miss Moore going to town and joined in with a wooden object and then fucked Kristina right in front of Barbara. You would have fucked Barbara, too, if she would have let you. And all while you were supposed to be working. I wonder what the hotel management would say if they knew?”
“I will deny it completely. I am a valued employee here.”
“Kristina will back me up.”
“She is a disgraced former employee, dismissed for immoral activities. And don’t be so sure that she will.”
“Immoral activities that you participated in.”
“What is it you want, Mr. Goldman?”
“Where did Barbara’s father send her?”
“I don’t know,” Mario had replied. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I think you do know and you need to tell me. It isn’t worth risking this very lucrative position you have here.”
“Besides keeping quiet, what else are you willing to offer, Mr. Goldman?”
“$ 100,” Stan had replied, without thinking. He wasn’t sure he could lay hands on that much money right now, but Mario didn’t know that. “But only if what you tell me checks out.”
“I’ll need the money up front,” Mario had said.
“Oh, no you don’t, Pellegrino,” Stan had replied. “Not after that phony meeting you had supposedly set up between me and Barbara on the 26th of May.”
“You mean May 25th, sir. And you stood her up.”
“Miss Moore and I compared notes, my friend,” Stan had told him. “This was some sort of grift on your part. Here’s the deal. I’ll give you $ 20 now and the rest only if your tip proves accurate.”
Mario had sighed and shrugged his shoulders, but accepted the proffered banknotes. “Very well, Mr. Goldman, but only because I like you and because Barbara wants to be with you for reasons that I cannot understand.”
Then, he had continued, “Her father had me send a telegram to the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women up in Rhinecliff. And he had me purchase two train tickets for that station, one a one way ticket and one a return trip. I leave it to you to figure out which one of the two used the return ticket.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pellegrino,” Stan had replied. “I will let you get back to work now.”
After that conversation, Stan had returned to his rooms and packed a suitcase and headed to the train station.
Stan had dozed off, tired from his late night with Kristina and his confrontation with Mario earlier in the day. He was awakened by the conductor informing him that the upcoming stop was Rhinecliff. Descending from the train, he found some horse and buggies waiting for passengers. He approached the nearest one and asked to be taken to the nearby village of Rhinebeck.
There, he secured a room at the Beekman Arms Inn, an old hotel that had begun as a tavern back before the Revolution and had hosted such luminaries as George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, the latter of whom had exchanged insults there with Aaron Burr which had led to their infamous duel in which Hamilton had been killed.
On his way to dinner, Stan stopped at the desk and inquired about the Institute. The clerk wasn’t sure, but he had heard rumors of such a place in an old mansion over towards the river, back in the direction of Rhinecliff and gave Stan directions. Stan decided it was too late to go there today and decided to go have a look around the next day.
The next day, Sunday, dawned clear and warm. After breakfast, Stan donned the “country” clothes he had brought with him-Knickerbockers with knee socks, a white cotton shirt without a tie, ankle-high lace-up boots with gaiters, topped with a jaunty woolen Irish hunting cap.
The desk clerk had said that the house he suspected of being the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women was a bit over two miles from the hotel, on a bluff overlooking the Hudson, so he decided to walk rather than attracting attention by calling for a cab.
Stan followed a well maintained dirt road out of the village, through woods mixed with farmland in which some cows were grazing contentedly. He picked up a fallen branch of the appropriate length to use as a walking stick and whistled a happy tune as he strolled along, cheered immensely by the prospect of seeing Barbara once more.
It took perhaps 45 minutes to arrive at a wall that ran along the road on the side facing the river. The wall was about six feet high, made of stones dug from nearby fields, piled on top of each other without mortar, in the local style.
A short distance along the wall was a wrought iron gate, which Stan found to be locked. Peering through the bars, he could see a crushed stone carriage path leading through a well-tended lawn to a large and rather gloomy looking house.
Stan looked around for any sign identifying the place as the Institute, but didn’t see one. ‘Is this it?’ he wondered.
His question was answered a few moments later when the door to the house opened and a figure emerged, followed by a group of a dozen or so females. Some were dressed, but at least some appeared nearly naked, with some kind of loincloth-like garment around their waists. ‘One of them must be Barbara,’ Stan thought, his heart beating quickly at the thought of her being so close, yet out of reach, at least for the moment.
‘Was she one of the almost naked ones?’ he wondered. He couldn’t be sure from where he stood, but he saw no immediate way to get closer.
Very shortly, a large male figure and another female figure emerged, followed by a smaller, well-dressed man, who appeared to be addressing the assembled young women. ‘That must be that Darwin fellow, who runs the place,’ Stan decided.
Then, Stan observed a most strange and shocking sight, indeed. The young women began removing their clothes, the fully dressed ones, as well as the nearly naked ones, leaving their garments in piles on the ground.
Even though he was too far away to really see the details of all those naked female bodies, he found himself getting hard at the mere idea of the spectacle and the near certainty that Barbara was among them.
Once they had all stripped, they began doing some sort of calisthenics, bends and stretches, presumably to limber up for something. Then they were lined up on the carriage path, facing towards the gate by which Stan stood, his mouth agape at the strange, but highly erotic spectacle.
Then, at some signal he couldn’t hear, they were off, like the horses in the countless races Stan had watched, but far more alluring, heading down the path straight towards him.
Stan was mesmerized by their naked breasts bouncing enticingly as they ran or, more accurately, loped, their bare feet obviously experiencing discomfort as they trod on the sharp stones. Suddenly he realized that he would be visible to them, so he quickly ducked back behind the wall, just peeking out through the gate at the vision of female loveliness approaching.
And, as they reached almost to the gate, he saw her, in the middle of the pack, his lovely Barbara! Stan’s head swum; he could barely breathe as he gazed upon her luscious breasts and limber thighs. This was what he had wished to see from the moment their eyes locked at the restaurant, yet here he was, unable to take her naked body in his arms and make passionate love to her, as he ached to do.
Then, the runners turned and headed back on the home stretch towards the house. Now, instead of a dozen pairs of breasts, Stan got to look at a dozen delightful naked buttocks as they made their way back to the house.
He was intrigued to see that, around the halfway point on the home stretch, Barbara and another one of the girls broke from the pack and finished one-two, though Stan couldn’t discern the order from where he was. The race complete, there was some kind of reward for the top finishers, served to them in bowls. ‘Perhaps ice cream, most welcome on this warm day,’ Stan mused.
Then, four of the girls, Barbara among them, broke into pairs and began wrestling on the lawn. Stan would have given most of his dwindling fortune to be able to observe this delightful turn of events up close. He was very aroused just imagining Barbara in the clutches of one of the other girls, rubbing their naked bodies together. Oh, if only that could be him!
Finally, the match ended and the four competitors were subjected to some sort of examination by Darwin, after which Barbara was sent off, naked, into the woods that lined one side of the house, accompanied by another woman, who was fully dressed. The other girls headed off around the house in the direction of the river.
‘What was going on?’ Stan wondered. He walked along the road, following the wall to where the stone structure turned away from the road at right angles, heading through the woods in the direction of the river. The ground was uneven and Stan had to watch his footing, but eventually he came upon another gate.
Peering through the bars, he saw Barbara, completely naked, close enough to see that she held some supple birch branches about as long as her arm. He caught a snippet from the older woman accompanying her. “That one should do very nicely,” she said, handing Barbara a pair of garden shears.
‘Do for what?’ Stan wondered. Barbara set down the branches she was holding and snipped the selected one off where it joined a larger limb and added it to the others.
“A couple more should do,” the older woman said, as they moved out of earshot.
After adding two more branches, they headed back through the woods in the direction of the house. Stan carefully picked his way back to the road and followed it to the main gate. There, he saw that the naked girls had returned from the river and were now assembled in front of the house.
A wooden bench of some sort had been placed on the flagstones. Barbara was being led to the bench and made to bend over it and was secured in place.
The branches had been bound together at one end, though the other ends were left free. The instrument was given to one of the naked girls, who took her place behind Barb and struck her very hard on the ass.
She continued striking Barb’s behind every twenty seconds or so. It looked terribly painful and Stan thought he could hear Barb wailing in distress. Stan found the spectacle was both horrifying and intensely erotic. He desperately wished he could burst through the gate and run to her, though whether to stop her punishment or simply observe it at closer range, Stan’s swirling brain could not decide.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the birching ended. Barbara was released and the two fully clothed women helped her stand and escorted her into the house.
Stan would have given everything he owned to be able to comfort her, but he knew that could not be, at least not right now. But what he had seen left him certain that he had to rescue her from this awful place.
To do that he needed a plan. He would also need money to execute any plan, probably more than he could lay his hands on at present. He walked back to the hotel, where he checked out and found a ride to the train station to return to the city to marshal his resources.
Stan sat back in the Pullman coach as the train made its way along the eastern shore of the Hudson. It was late afternoon on a pleasant summer Saturday, a day when, but for the incident with Barbara that had gotten him banned from the track, he might have been earning his keep betting on the horses at Saratoga.
Instead, he was voyaging in search of his lost love, who had been exiled to some Institute that was supposedly going to cure her of the very spunky spirit that had made him fall for her and caused her to fall for him.
Earlier that day, he had presented himself at the desk at the Plaza Hotel and accosted Mario Pellegrino. “Ah, Mr. Goldman, how nice to see you,” the slimy bastard had greeted him.
Stan had crooked his finger. “I think this is a conversation we should have outside, Mario,” he had said.
“But, I’m on duty,” Mario had protested.
“Take a five minute break. Have one of these other gentlemen cover for you. Things don’t look too busy right now,” Stan had said. “I’ll meet you out front.”
There, Stan had come straight to the point. “Listen, Pellegrino, I happened to encounter Kristina, a former employee of yours, and she spilled the beans all about your goings on with her and Barbara Moore.”
Mario had blanched visibly, but had quickly regained his poise. “What goings on? Where did you encounter Kristina, may I ask?”
“None of your business. But I got the whole story. You watched her and the lovely Miss Moore going to town and joined in with a wooden object and then fucked Kristina right in front of Barbara. You would have fucked Barbara, too, if she would have let you. And all while you were supposed to be working. I wonder what the hotel management would say if they knew?”
“I will deny it completely. I am a valued employee here.”
“Kristina will back me up.”
“She is a disgraced former employee, dismissed for immoral activities. And don’t be so sure that she will.”
“Immoral activities that you participated in.”
“What is it you want, Mr. Goldman?”
“Where did Barbara’s father send her?”
“I don’t know,” Mario had replied. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I think you do know and you need to tell me. It isn’t worth risking this very lucrative position you have here.”
“Besides keeping quiet, what else are you willing to offer, Mr. Goldman?”
“$ 100,” Stan had replied, without thinking. He wasn’t sure he could lay hands on that much money right now, but Mario didn’t know that. “But only if what you tell me checks out.”
“I’ll need the money up front,” Mario had said.
“Oh, no you don’t, Pellegrino,” Stan had replied. “Not after that phony meeting you had supposedly set up between me and Barbara on the 26th of May.”
“You mean May 25th, sir. And you stood her up.”
“Miss Moore and I compared notes, my friend,” Stan had told him. “This was some sort of grift on your part. Here’s the deal. I’ll give you $ 20 now and the rest only if your tip proves accurate.”
Mario had sighed and shrugged his shoulders, but accepted the proffered banknotes. “Very well, Mr. Goldman, but only because I like you and because Barbara wants to be with you for reasons that I cannot understand.”
Then, he had continued, “Her father had me send a telegram to the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women up in Rhinecliff. And he had me purchase two train tickets for that station, one a one way ticket and one a return trip. I leave it to you to figure out which one of the two used the return ticket.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pellegrino,” Stan had replied. “I will let you get back to work now.”
After that conversation, Stan had returned to his rooms and packed a suitcase and headed to the train station.
***
Stan had dozed off, tired from his late night with Kristina and his confrontation with Mario earlier in the day. He was awakened by the conductor informing him that the upcoming stop was Rhinecliff. Descending from the train, he found some horse and buggies waiting for passengers. He approached the nearest one and asked to be taken to the nearby village of Rhinebeck.
There, he secured a room at the Beekman Arms Inn, an old hotel that had begun as a tavern back before the Revolution and had hosted such luminaries as George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, the latter of whom had exchanged insults there with Aaron Burr which had led to their infamous duel in which Hamilton had been killed.
On his way to dinner, Stan stopped at the desk and inquired about the Institute. The clerk wasn’t sure, but he had heard rumors of such a place in an old mansion over towards the river, back in the direction of Rhinecliff and gave Stan directions. Stan decided it was too late to go there today and decided to go have a look around the next day.
***
The next day, Sunday, dawned clear and warm. After breakfast, Stan donned the “country” clothes he had brought with him-Knickerbockers with knee socks, a white cotton shirt without a tie, ankle-high lace-up boots with gaiters, topped with a jaunty woolen Irish hunting cap.
The desk clerk had said that the house he suspected of being the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women was a bit over two miles from the hotel, on a bluff overlooking the Hudson, so he decided to walk rather than attracting attention by calling for a cab.
Stan followed a well maintained dirt road out of the village, through woods mixed with farmland in which some cows were grazing contentedly. He picked up a fallen branch of the appropriate length to use as a walking stick and whistled a happy tune as he strolled along, cheered immensely by the prospect of seeing Barbara once more.
It took perhaps 45 minutes to arrive at a wall that ran along the road on the side facing the river. The wall was about six feet high, made of stones dug from nearby fields, piled on top of each other without mortar, in the local style.
A short distance along the wall was a wrought iron gate, which Stan found to be locked. Peering through the bars, he could see a crushed stone carriage path leading through a well-tended lawn to a large and rather gloomy looking house.
Stan looked around for any sign identifying the place as the Institute, but didn’t see one. ‘Is this it?’ he wondered.
His question was answered a few moments later when the door to the house opened and a figure emerged, followed by a group of a dozen or so females. Some were dressed, but at least some appeared nearly naked, with some kind of loincloth-like garment around their waists. ‘One of them must be Barbara,’ Stan thought, his heart beating quickly at the thought of her being so close, yet out of reach, at least for the moment.
‘Was she one of the almost naked ones?’ he wondered. He couldn’t be sure from where he stood, but he saw no immediate way to get closer.
Very shortly, a large male figure and another female figure emerged, followed by a smaller, well-dressed man, who appeared to be addressing the assembled young women. ‘That must be that Darwin fellow, who runs the place,’ Stan decided.
Then, Stan observed a most strange and shocking sight, indeed. The young women began removing their clothes, the fully dressed ones, as well as the nearly naked ones, leaving their garments in piles on the ground.
Even though he was too far away to really see the details of all those naked female bodies, he found himself getting hard at the mere idea of the spectacle and the near certainty that Barbara was among them.
Once they had all stripped, they began doing some sort of calisthenics, bends and stretches, presumably to limber up for something. Then they were lined up on the carriage path, facing towards the gate by which Stan stood, his mouth agape at the strange, but highly erotic spectacle.
Then, at some signal he couldn’t hear, they were off, like the horses in the countless races Stan had watched, but far more alluring, heading down the path straight towards him.
Stan was mesmerized by their naked breasts bouncing enticingly as they ran or, more accurately, loped, their bare feet obviously experiencing discomfort as they trod on the sharp stones. Suddenly he realized that he would be visible to them, so he quickly ducked back behind the wall, just peeking out through the gate at the vision of female loveliness approaching.
And, as they reached almost to the gate, he saw her, in the middle of the pack, his lovely Barbara! Stan’s head swum; he could barely breathe as he gazed upon her luscious breasts and limber thighs. This was what he had wished to see from the moment their eyes locked at the restaurant, yet here he was, unable to take her naked body in his arms and make passionate love to her, as he ached to do.
Then, the runners turned and headed back on the home stretch towards the house. Now, instead of a dozen pairs of breasts, Stan got to look at a dozen delightful naked buttocks as they made their way back to the house.
He was intrigued to see that, around the halfway point on the home stretch, Barbara and another one of the girls broke from the pack and finished one-two, though Stan couldn’t discern the order from where he was. The race complete, there was some kind of reward for the top finishers, served to them in bowls. ‘Perhaps ice cream, most welcome on this warm day,’ Stan mused.
Then, four of the girls, Barbara among them, broke into pairs and began wrestling on the lawn. Stan would have given most of his dwindling fortune to be able to observe this delightful turn of events up close. He was very aroused just imagining Barbara in the clutches of one of the other girls, rubbing their naked bodies together. Oh, if only that could be him!
Finally, the match ended and the four competitors were subjected to some sort of examination by Darwin, after which Barbara was sent off, naked, into the woods that lined one side of the house, accompanied by another woman, who was fully dressed. The other girls headed off around the house in the direction of the river.
‘What was going on?’ Stan wondered. He walked along the road, following the wall to where the stone structure turned away from the road at right angles, heading through the woods in the direction of the river. The ground was uneven and Stan had to watch his footing, but eventually he came upon another gate.
Peering through the bars, he saw Barbara, completely naked, close enough to see that she held some supple birch branches about as long as her arm. He caught a snippet from the older woman accompanying her. “That one should do very nicely,” she said, handing Barbara a pair of garden shears.
‘Do for what?’ Stan wondered. Barbara set down the branches she was holding and snipped the selected one off where it joined a larger limb and added it to the others.
“A couple more should do,” the older woman said, as they moved out of earshot.
After adding two more branches, they headed back through the woods in the direction of the house. Stan carefully picked his way back to the road and followed it to the main gate. There, he saw that the naked girls had returned from the river and were now assembled in front of the house.
A wooden bench of some sort had been placed on the flagstones. Barbara was being led to the bench and made to bend over it and was secured in place.
The branches had been bound together at one end, though the other ends were left free. The instrument was given to one of the naked girls, who took her place behind Barb and struck her very hard on the ass.
She continued striking Barb’s behind every twenty seconds or so. It looked terribly painful and Stan thought he could hear Barb wailing in distress. Stan found the spectacle was both horrifying and intensely erotic. He desperately wished he could burst through the gate and run to her, though whether to stop her punishment or simply observe it at closer range, Stan’s swirling brain could not decide.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the birching ended. Barbara was released and the two fully clothed women helped her stand and escorted her into the house.
Stan would have given everything he owned to be able to comfort her, but he knew that could not be, at least not right now. But what he had seen left him certain that he had to rescue her from this awful place.
To do that he needed a plan. He would also need money to execute any plan, probably more than he could lay his hands on at present. He walked back to the hotel, where he checked out and found a ride to the train station to return to the city to marshal his resources.
windar
Teller of Tales
The role of the Beekman Arms in the duel between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton is probably apocryphal and likely told by the owners of the Inn to boost their business. The two men were long-standing political and personal opponents and had quarrelled over the disputed election of 1800. At that time, the President and Vice President didn't run as a ticket. Rather, the second place candidate was awarded the Vice Presidency (trying to imagine Trump as Biden's veep
).
Burr and Thomas Jefferson, both running as Democratic-Republicans tied in the Electoral College, sending the election to the House of Representatives, where Hamilton used his considerable influence as a former Treasury Secretary and co-author of The Federalist Papers to throw the Presidency to Jefferson.
By 1804, Congress has passed the 12th Amendment, under which the President and Vice President run as a ticket. Burr, knowing that Jefferson was going to drop him from the ticket, decided to run for Governor of New York. During the campaign, a letter from a Dr. Cooper surfaced in which it was alleged that Hamilton had called Burr "a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government".
After an exchange of letters (and the possible quarrel at the Beekman Arms), a duel was arranged on the clifftop of Weehawken, New Jersey, overlooking the Hudson and New York City. This was a common duelling site, and Hamilton's son, Philip, had been killed in a duel there only three years before.
The two men, with their seconds, rowed across the river and faced each other. Hamilton fired first, over Burr's head. There is much dispute, even up to now, as to whether he did so deliberately. Burr then fired and hit Hamilton in the abdomen. Hamilton was rowed back across the river and died the next day. Burr was charged with murder, but the New Jersey Supreme Court quashed the charges. He completed his term as Vice President and was later charged with treason for plotting to set up an independent country in the area that is now Texas, with himself as head. He was acquitted on those charges and lived until 1836 as a private citizen.
If you're thinking, "Wow! This would make a great musical on Broadway!" then I'd say, "That's ridiculous!"
The claims of the Beekman Arms to be the oldest continually operating hotel in the US are likely true and George Washington did sleep there, though he neglected to write a review on Trip Advisor. More recently, in 2010, Chelsea Clinton's wedding took place nearby and many famous people stayed at the Beekman.
).Burr and Thomas Jefferson, both running as Democratic-Republicans tied in the Electoral College, sending the election to the House of Representatives, where Hamilton used his considerable influence as a former Treasury Secretary and co-author of The Federalist Papers to throw the Presidency to Jefferson.
By 1804, Congress has passed the 12th Amendment, under which the President and Vice President run as a ticket. Burr, knowing that Jefferson was going to drop him from the ticket, decided to run for Governor of New York. During the campaign, a letter from a Dr. Cooper surfaced in which it was alleged that Hamilton had called Burr "a dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the reins of government".
After an exchange of letters (and the possible quarrel at the Beekman Arms), a duel was arranged on the clifftop of Weehawken, New Jersey, overlooking the Hudson and New York City. This was a common duelling site, and Hamilton's son, Philip, had been killed in a duel there only three years before.
The two men, with their seconds, rowed across the river and faced each other. Hamilton fired first, over Burr's head. There is much dispute, even up to now, as to whether he did so deliberately. Burr then fired and hit Hamilton in the abdomen. Hamilton was rowed back across the river and died the next day. Burr was charged with murder, but the New Jersey Supreme Court quashed the charges. He completed his term as Vice President and was later charged with treason for plotting to set up an independent country in the area that is now Texas, with himself as head. He was acquitted on those charges and lived until 1836 as a private citizen.
If you're thinking, "Wow! This would make a great musical on Broadway!" then I'd say, "That's ridiculous!"
The claims of the Beekman Arms to be the oldest continually operating hotel in the US are likely true and George Washington did sleep there, though he neglected to write a review on Trip Advisor. More recently, in 2010, Chelsea Clinton's wedding took place nearby and many famous people stayed at the Beekman.
That’s the wrong question, surely he’s discovering this can be the key to a winning combination?
The first, you idiot! The first!
Some rescuing hero you are!
Saving my tight little should be THE ONLY THING ON YOUR MIND at a time like this!
SHEEEEESHHH!!!
Doragon
Tribune
The first, you idiot! The first!
Some rescuing hero you are!
Saving my tight little should be THE ONLY THING ON YOUR MIND at a time like this!
SHEEEEESHHH!!!
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Knickerbockers. I always thought it was the name of a New York baseball team. Seems to be a sort of trousers.
Patience! Designing a good plan needs some time, consideration and preparation!The first, you idiot! The first!
Some rescuing hero you are!
Saving my tight little should be THE ONLY THING ON YOUR MIND at a time like this!
SHEEEEESHHH!!!
Not just...
windar
Teller of Tales
Basketball actually. There was a baseball team by that name, but they disbanded back in the 1870s.
The name is used to refer to the old Dutch inhabitants of New York, presumably because they wore pants that looked like that. Washington Irving had a character in one of his books called Diedrich Knickerbocker.
Absolutely. If Stan had burst in, Max would have overpowered him and Darwin would have had him arrested for trespassing. Barb's tight little will just have to absorb a bit more punishment while Stan comes up with a viable plan...Patience! Designing a good plan needs some time, consideration and preparation!
Not just...
Silly looking to say the least. But then a lot of menswear is.
Well done, Stan, for finally getting one over on Mario!
And the tale of the race and the birch branches was hot enough even before we learned of an unseen spectator!
Knickerbockers. I always thought it was the name of a New York baseball team. Seems to be a sort of trousers.
View attachment 1159799
Patience! Designing a good plan needs some time, consideration and preparation!
Not just...
View attachment 1159800
Well, your plan's off to a good start. Plenty of exposed flanks.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I was thinking of exposed tight littles!Well, your plan's off to a good start. Plenty of exposed flanks.
Doragon
Tribune
Well, those need to be outflanked.I was thinking of exposed tight littles!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Be careful what you wish for, you don`t know what he might save it for!The first, you idiot! The first!
Some rescuing hero you are!
Saving my tight little should be THE ONLY THING ON YOUR MIND at a time like this!
SHEEEEESHHH!!!
Chapter 31.
Archibald Vandergrift closed his eyes, relaxing to the gentle rocking and swaying of the Pullman coach as the train made it’s way north. His self-appointed mission to seek out Barbara was finally underway. In his coat pocket was a ticket to Rhinecliff and a reservation at the Beekman Arms Inn.
It was Saturday morning, nearly a week had gone by since his early Monday morning encounter with James Moore in the Plaza dining room, in which Barbara’s father had refused to tell him where she was. But Archibald had gotten around that. It had cost him plenty, but the information he had needed had been obtained, after considerable negotiation, from that wily desk clerk at the hotel. In the end a check had been written, made out to Mario Pellegrino for the exorbitant sum of $150.
But desperate times called for desperate measures! He now knew that his beloved was undergoing treatment at a place called the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women. And he was determined to go there, find her and profess his undying love for her as well as his forgiveness for that regrettably dreadful scene under the racecourse grandstand.
He had taken care of family matters during the week but now that he was free of such obligations and on his way to Rhinecliff, he was feeling quite confident. This would be simple enough. He was quite certain that once he arrived at the Institute he would gain entrance easily. The Vandergrift name was normally more than enough to open closed doors. And once inside he would gain an audience with the Director … Darwin, if that was his name … and demand that he be allowed to see Barbara.
Yes, that was the plan. Once he reached Rhinecliff he would proceed straight to the Inn, where he would check in and learn from the management there the exact whereabouts of the Institute.
In the meantime he settled back and focused his mind on his beloved, picturing her in his mind’s eye, beginning with her radiantly angelic face with its mischievous dark brown eyes and winsome smile, framed by her luxuriant brown hair in which he’d noted and adored the luminous reddish highlights that could be seen under bright sunlight.
These features he had seen and loved from the very beginning. He also had a mind’s eye vision of her figure and body, although there his imagination played a central role as he had never seen her naked, apart from that fleeting moment when he had caught sight of her half-undressed on that filthy bed of straw under the racecourse grandstand with that Goldman character’s bare ass bouncing up and down between her spread legs.
But he had seen enough to know something of her shapely legs, lovely breasts and exquisitely perky nipples. His mind easily painted in the rest, and before long he had a hard on, which he shielded with a newspaper from the view of the others in the compartment, especially the hatchet-faced matron who had been glaring at him relentlessly ever since they left the City.
But then the train slowed, rounded a bend and shuddered to a stop alongside the platform of a small wooden station.
“Rhinecliff, Rhinecliff!” called the conductor as he passed through.
Archibald rose to his feet, tossed his newspaper on the seat behind him, flashed the matron a grin and a wink, and departed.
Moments later, he found himself standing alone with his bags on the platform … no, not quite alone, for another passenger … a man … had alighted at the very last moment from a coach farther up ahead and had headed immediately, with his back to Vandergrift, for the first horse-drawn rig among several waiting off to one side of the station.
Vandergrift gathered his two bags in hand, and following at a distance overheard the other passenger telling the driver of the rig, who had introduced himself as Hugh, that he wished to be driven to the Beekman Arms Inn.
“Hey! Wait!” shouted Vandergrift, picking up his pace. “I’m going to the Beekman too. Would you be willing to take us both?”
Hugh, looking up, broke into a smile and waved him forward.
The other man spun around, took one look at Vandergrift and dropped his jaw. It was none other than Goldman!
**************
Barbara too had been closing her eyes that Saturday morning at nearly the same time that Vandergrift had been doing the same in his Pullman coach compartment. Barbara too had been under scrutiny at the time, not by a hatchet-faced old matron, but by Dr. Darwin.
In her case, she was attempting to train her mind on anything but the opposite sex, or on any kind of erotic thoughts. The focus of the past week’s treatments had been a new technique Darwin was developing for liberating the mind of any and all thoughts connected with the libido.
The procedure was simple enough in conception and execution. The good doctor would have Barbara and the other girls laid down facing up on a table. Their arms would be stretched out and cuffed over their heads, while their legs were spread apart and jack-knifed up and and over their bodies and bound with ankle cuffs and short chains to stanchions bolted to the wall … thus placing their nude bodies in a stressed v-shaped position with butt and genitals spread wide and open to Darwin, who would strategically position himself there on a chair.
The girls were then instructed to focus their minds and imaginations on inanimate objects while Darwin, or sometimes one of the matrons, used dildo and finger play to arouse them sexually. And as they struggled valiantly to think clean thoughts and ignore the stimulation, Darwin could be heard, repeating over and over in a monotonous tone, “Mind over matter … mind over matter … mind over matter …”
But in Barbara’s case, and as far as she could tell in the case of the others as well, this simply wasn’t working. She found it patently impossible to ignore having her clit stroked and teased while a big dildo slid back and forth inside her cunt. She inevitably would herb excited, wet and eventually lose it, which would then trigger an exasperated response from Darwin … which could portend an end of the day ice cold shower, electric shock treatments, or a trip to the whipping post or birching bench, depending on the good doctor’s mood.
On this particular morning, for whatever reason … but probably because lustful memories of Goldman beneath the racecourse grandstand, pressing his hardened manhood between her invitingly-parted labia, kept crowding out the wholesome images of houses, chairs, food, Hansom cabs, tall buildings,, or whatever inanimate asexual things she attempted to concentrate on instead … she orgasmed nearly right away … and it was a big one too!
“Damn it Barbara!” Darwin exploded as he wiped with his handkerchief at the spatters and gobs of squirted dewy cum adorning his face and shirt front. “Mind over matter, my girl! Mind over matter! It’s so simple! You can’t possibly be trying very hard at all! And for that you’ll pay! I order you to spend your entire Sunday afternoon tomorrow in the garden staked out spread-eagled and naked in the mid-August heat without shade or drink while the other girls enjoy frolicking and bathing in the cool waters of the Hudson, savoring bowls of ice cream and drinking their fill of cold lemonade! And at the end of the day, it’ll be to the whipping post for you to the tune of a dozen lashes, both front and back, delivered by Gwendolyn and Elisabeth!
*************
Mario had propped himself up on one elbow and was lazily tracing circles around the pebbled surface of one of Kristina’s wide areolae while observing the way her nipple was hardening in response to the stimulation.
“You like doing it again?” she purred, reaching for his stiffening cock.
“Mmmmm …” he said. They were lying in bed in his hotel room on that same Saturday morning.
“Why you so happy, Mario. You like fucking Kristina, Ja?”
“I do, but it’s more than that?” he said happily as he rolled on top of her.
“Ja? What you like more than Kristina?” she asked spreading her legs wide and using one hand to guide him in.
“Oh, not more … besides … ahhhhh …. I mean … yes …. money …. money and sex make the world go around!”
“Ah, money! … but you not rich … ohhhhhhj … Min Gud! …. But you poor, like Kristina poor … harder! … faster! … harder! …. I mean not rich like Mr. James Moore!”
“No Kristina, not like him … but good enough … whew! …. Yessss …. Now … now!”
Several minutes later, after he rolled free of her, he said, “I mean, look, Kristina! I’ve suddenly come into a few hundred. How about you and I go somewhere? Maybe a fancy place for dinner? What do you say?”
Archibald Vandergrift closed his eyes, relaxing to the gentle rocking and swaying of the Pullman coach as the train made it’s way north. His self-appointed mission to seek out Barbara was finally underway. In his coat pocket was a ticket to Rhinecliff and a reservation at the Beekman Arms Inn.
It was Saturday morning, nearly a week had gone by since his early Monday morning encounter with James Moore in the Plaza dining room, in which Barbara’s father had refused to tell him where she was. But Archibald had gotten around that. It had cost him plenty, but the information he had needed had been obtained, after considerable negotiation, from that wily desk clerk at the hotel. In the end a check had been written, made out to Mario Pellegrino for the exorbitant sum of $150.
But desperate times called for desperate measures! He now knew that his beloved was undergoing treatment at a place called the Darwin Institute for Wayward Young Women. And he was determined to go there, find her and profess his undying love for her as well as his forgiveness for that regrettably dreadful scene under the racecourse grandstand.
He had taken care of family matters during the week but now that he was free of such obligations and on his way to Rhinecliff, he was feeling quite confident. This would be simple enough. He was quite certain that once he arrived at the Institute he would gain entrance easily. The Vandergrift name was normally more than enough to open closed doors. And once inside he would gain an audience with the Director … Darwin, if that was his name … and demand that he be allowed to see Barbara.
Yes, that was the plan. Once he reached Rhinecliff he would proceed straight to the Inn, where he would check in and learn from the management there the exact whereabouts of the Institute.
In the meantime he settled back and focused his mind on his beloved, picturing her in his mind’s eye, beginning with her radiantly angelic face with its mischievous dark brown eyes and winsome smile, framed by her luxuriant brown hair in which he’d noted and adored the luminous reddish highlights that could be seen under bright sunlight.
These features he had seen and loved from the very beginning. He also had a mind’s eye vision of her figure and body, although there his imagination played a central role as he had never seen her naked, apart from that fleeting moment when he had caught sight of her half-undressed on that filthy bed of straw under the racecourse grandstand with that Goldman character’s bare ass bouncing up and down between her spread legs.
But he had seen enough to know something of her shapely legs, lovely breasts and exquisitely perky nipples. His mind easily painted in the rest, and before long he had a hard on, which he shielded with a newspaper from the view of the others in the compartment, especially the hatchet-faced matron who had been glaring at him relentlessly ever since they left the City.
But then the train slowed, rounded a bend and shuddered to a stop alongside the platform of a small wooden station.
“Rhinecliff, Rhinecliff!” called the conductor as he passed through.
Archibald rose to his feet, tossed his newspaper on the seat behind him, flashed the matron a grin and a wink, and departed.
Moments later, he found himself standing alone with his bags on the platform … no, not quite alone, for another passenger … a man … had alighted at the very last moment from a coach farther up ahead and had headed immediately, with his back to Vandergrift, for the first horse-drawn rig among several waiting off to one side of the station.
Vandergrift gathered his two bags in hand, and following at a distance overheard the other passenger telling the driver of the rig, who had introduced himself as Hugh, that he wished to be driven to the Beekman Arms Inn.
“Hey! Wait!” shouted Vandergrift, picking up his pace. “I’m going to the Beekman too. Would you be willing to take us both?”
Hugh, looking up, broke into a smile and waved him forward.
The other man spun around, took one look at Vandergrift and dropped his jaw. It was none other than Goldman!
**************
Barbara too had been closing her eyes that Saturday morning at nearly the same time that Vandergrift had been doing the same in his Pullman coach compartment. Barbara too had been under scrutiny at the time, not by a hatchet-faced old matron, but by Dr. Darwin.
In her case, she was attempting to train her mind on anything but the opposite sex, or on any kind of erotic thoughts. The focus of the past week’s treatments had been a new technique Darwin was developing for liberating the mind of any and all thoughts connected with the libido.
The procedure was simple enough in conception and execution. The good doctor would have Barbara and the other girls laid down facing up on a table. Their arms would be stretched out and cuffed over their heads, while their legs were spread apart and jack-knifed up and and over their bodies and bound with ankle cuffs and short chains to stanchions bolted to the wall … thus placing their nude bodies in a stressed v-shaped position with butt and genitals spread wide and open to Darwin, who would strategically position himself there on a chair.
The girls were then instructed to focus their minds and imaginations on inanimate objects while Darwin, or sometimes one of the matrons, used dildo and finger play to arouse them sexually. And as they struggled valiantly to think clean thoughts and ignore the stimulation, Darwin could be heard, repeating over and over in a monotonous tone, “Mind over matter … mind over matter … mind over matter …”
But in Barbara’s case, and as far as she could tell in the case of the others as well, this simply wasn’t working. She found it patently impossible to ignore having her clit stroked and teased while a big dildo slid back and forth inside her cunt. She inevitably would herb excited, wet and eventually lose it, which would then trigger an exasperated response from Darwin … which could portend an end of the day ice cold shower, electric shock treatments, or a trip to the whipping post or birching bench, depending on the good doctor’s mood.
On this particular morning, for whatever reason … but probably because lustful memories of Goldman beneath the racecourse grandstand, pressing his hardened manhood between her invitingly-parted labia, kept crowding out the wholesome images of houses, chairs, food, Hansom cabs, tall buildings,, or whatever inanimate asexual things she attempted to concentrate on instead … she orgasmed nearly right away … and it was a big one too!
“Damn it Barbara!” Darwin exploded as he wiped with his handkerchief at the spatters and gobs of squirted dewy cum adorning his face and shirt front. “Mind over matter, my girl! Mind over matter! It’s so simple! You can’t possibly be trying very hard at all! And for that you’ll pay! I order you to spend your entire Sunday afternoon tomorrow in the garden staked out spread-eagled and naked in the mid-August heat without shade or drink while the other girls enjoy frolicking and bathing in the cool waters of the Hudson, savoring bowls of ice cream and drinking their fill of cold lemonade! And at the end of the day, it’ll be to the whipping post for you to the tune of a dozen lashes, both front and back, delivered by Gwendolyn and Elisabeth!
*************
Mario had propped himself up on one elbow and was lazily tracing circles around the pebbled surface of one of Kristina’s wide areolae while observing the way her nipple was hardening in response to the stimulation.
“You like doing it again?” she purred, reaching for his stiffening cock.
“Mmmmm …” he said. They were lying in bed in his hotel room on that same Saturday morning.
“Why you so happy, Mario. You like fucking Kristina, Ja?”
“I do, but it’s more than that?” he said happily as he rolled on top of her.
“Ja? What you like more than Kristina?” she asked spreading her legs wide and using one hand to guide him in.
“Oh, not more … besides … ahhhhh …. I mean … yes …. money …. money and sex make the world go around!”
“Ah, money! … but you not rich … ohhhhhhj … Min Gud! …. But you poor, like Kristina poor … harder! … faster! … harder! …. I mean not rich like Mr. James Moore!”
“No Kristina, not like him … but good enough … whew! …. Yessss …. Now … now!”
Several minutes later, after he rolled free of her, he said, “I mean, look, Kristina! I’ve suddenly come into a few hundred. How about you and I go somewhere? Maybe a fancy place for dinner? What do you say?”
Last edited:
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
What a wonderful twist and so well crafted ...
Is young Miss Moore starting to enjoy her 'sojourn' at Rhinecliff?
Is it just me, or does anyone else think these two actually make the perfect lower class couple ...
Another excellent episode Barb ...
Doragon
Tribune
Where can I apply for a job at this institute?