Rebecca and The Bloody Codes

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 28 The Highest Bidder

Sir Elliott held up his hand for quiet.

“I’ll start the bidding at the reserve of One Hundred Pounds. Who’s up to pluck this pure, white Lily?”

Rebecca stood, listening to all this with growing terror. He really was going to sell her off like a pig at the high fair! Someone was going to buy her maidenhead! Her parents had always been so happy, so in love. Now she would be raped for her first experience at sex!

The bidding began very lively, quickly surpassing 400 Pounds. As the bids came slower, Sir Elliot turned to Rebecca. “Come on girl! Let’s show them what they’re getting!”

With that he gestured to a footman, who promptly untied her skirt. The dark green velvet floated to the floor leaving her legs covered by the thin green lace petticoat, riding perilously low on her hips.

The crowd cheered and stomped their feet and then chanted in unison, “Petticoat! Petticoat! Petticoat! Petticoat!”

Sir Elliott pantomimed not hearing, but then smiled and nodded and gestured to the footman. A quick untie and the petticoat also drifted down leaving Rebecca in only the short pantaloons in dark green, riding barely above her pubes, with a few wisps of red hair showing.

The crowd was at a fever pitch as the bidding resumed, climbing to 600 Pounds before slowing and narrowing to just four bidders.

Sir Elliot Grabbe enjoyed the role of showman and auctioneer and was determined to achieve the highest possible price (25% of which went directly to him). Nodding to the footman again, he called the crowd to silence and gestured to Rebecca. The sheer green fabric wrapping her chest loosened; the end came around; and in just an instant, it all fell away baring her pert young breasts to be only teasingly concealed by the short, cropped, mini jacket. With her arms cinched back, the jacket spread and her breasts thrust forward, nipples in plain sight!

Sir Elliott reached over and pulled on her nipples, eliciting a little squeak from the teen.

“Here, now,” he said turning to the audience, “who wants to suck those Nectar filled paps?”

Pandemonium broke out as the members of the club jostled for position to drink in the sight of the bound, half-naked virgin.

Sir Elliot let it go on a while and then called for silence.

“You’ve now seen most of the delicate flower up for sale. I can assure you that a proper inspection has been made and the remaining petals are covered in the same auburn tresses as you see on her head.” Cheers and laughter. “And the portcullis is intact!” Louder cheers. “Your last chance. Your last chance to possess this beautiful girl and introduce her to the world of sex and debauchery. An opportunity that will only come once for a dedicated beard-splitter to deflower this sweet girl!”

“The bidding stands at 640 Pounds. Who’ll say 700?”

The bidding resumed with gusto, but as it passed 800 pounds, it narrowed to two bidders, the Prince and another man in the back with a large mask. Rebecca was humiliated and terrified by the whole affair, but now she wanted the Prince to win since she knew him a little and he seemed kind. Although she could do some numbers, she had no conception of the value of 800 pounds.

When the Prince, after a little hesitation bid 1,000 pounds, there was a long pause. Such a price, even for a beautiful virgin, was unheard of. Then the man in the back called out in a loud, strong voice, “1,500 gold guineas!”

There was a collective catch of breath by the audience. Such a large bid was inconceivable.

The Prince graciously bowed and shook his head. “Pas plus,” he said.

“Sold,” cried Sir Elliott. “To the Duke of Wharton for 1500 gold Guineas.” He smiled broadly, thinking of his 375 guinea commission.


White Lily – the lily is often a symbol for a virgin or virginity, used by Chaucer, Shakespeare and, contemporary to our story, Alexander Pope.

The guinea was officially worth 22 shillings while the pound was 20. However, the pound was valued in silver and the guinea in gold. With the variance in bullion value, a guinea in 1723 was worth about 25 shillings or one-quarter more than a pound.

In 1723, 1500 gold guineas would buy 300 good horses or 400 good milking cows, or pay the wages of a skilled tradesman for thirty-five years. The bullion value in November 2019 of 1,500 gold guineas would be about $600,000 or £450,000

 

[Boris Spider]

The guinea was officially worth 22 shillings while the pound was 20. However, the pound was valued in silver and the guinea in gold. With the variance in bullion value, a guinea in 1723 was worth about 25 shillings or one-quarter more than a pound.

In 1723, 1500 gold guineas would buy 300 good horses or 400 good milking cows, or pay the wages of a skilled tradesman for thirty-five years. The bullion value in November 2019 of 1,500 gold guineas would be about $600,000 or £450,000

Enjoyable chapter, but 21 shillings, surely?

 

[twonines]

Enjoyable chapter, but 21 shillings, surely?

It varied between 21 and 30 shillings in the 18th century ,but after the Act of 1717 when Britain went onto the Gold Standard it was usually 21 shillings

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Enjoyable chapter, but 21 shillings, surely?

It varied between 21 and 30 shillings in the 18th century ,but after the Act of 1717 when Britain went onto the Gold Standard it was usually 21 shillings

Mea Culpa

Too many numbers from too many sources. It was officially 21. But I stand by the effective value of 25 and neither of these affect the 2019 bullion value which is quite substantial.

Perhaps some readers will put down the Princely (ouch) auction bid to the writer’s imagination or a device to enhance the story. However, there is good evidence for the possibility for such a bid in a wealthy audience.

In Aphra Behn‟s The Unfortunate Happy Lady: A True History (1698), Gracelove confesses to Philadelphia, ‘the intended Victim’: “Don’t you know then, that you are in a naughty House, and that old Beldam is a rank Procuress, to whom I am to give Two hundred Guineas for your Maidenhead?”

Per Goodreads: Aphra Behn, nee Johnston (1640-1689) was a Restoration poet, novelist, playwright, feminist and spy, considered by many to be the first English professional female writer. Unappreciated for years, she is now rightly regarded as a highly talented, innovative and prolific author. Her most famous work is a novel, Oroonoko (1688) which tells the tragic love story of its eponymous hero, an African forced into slavery.

In author Virginia Woolf's reckoning, Behn's total career is more important than any particular work it produced. Woolf wrote, "All women together, ought to let flowers fall upon the grave of Aphra Behn... for it was she who earned them the right to speak their minds."

Vita Sackville-West called Behn “an inhabitant of Grub Street with the best of them, ... a phenomenon never seen and ... furiously resented.”

The Unfortunate Happy Lady is available in e-book, http://www.public-library.uk/ebooks/102/17.pdf.

 

[Naraku]

More research and academic rambling.

A third, and most unsavory impulse was the “virgin cure myth,” a folklore belief that having sex with a virgin would cure a man of venereal disease (more and more common among the promiscuous in the eighteenth century) by transferring it to the innocent party. Though, of course, there was no factual basis for this and the cure must have almost always failed. But, “hope springs eternal.” So many a man suffering from the degenerative effects of syphilis or gonorrhea would think, "why not get another virgin and try again?" Who cares if it means transmitting the disease to the poor unfortunate girl?

Unfortunately, this belief persist in sub-Saharan Africa. The AIDS epidemic has led to a shocking number of child and even infant rapes.

HIV/AIDS, the stats, the Virgin Cure and infant rape | Science in Africa

www.scienceinafrica.com

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 29 The Duke of Wharton

Sir Elliott led the trembling, terrified girl down from the platform and into the presence of an imposing, powerfully built man.

“Rebecca Godwyn, I have the honour to present to you, His Grace, Philip Wharton, 1st Duke of Wharton, 2nd Marquess of Malmesbury, and 2nd Marquess of Catherlough.” Rebecca looked in awe at the large man whose pock-marked face seemed to wear a cruel leer even with the mask. This was the man who had bought her!

“Your Grace, I beg leave to present to you, Rebecca Godwyn, of Kent, your virgin for the evening.”

Rebecca, trying to be polite, curtsied awkwardly, with her arms bound, and stammered,

“I’m pleased to meet Your Highness, I mean, Your Grace.”

“Not as pleased as I am to meet you, Rebecca Godwyn. Sir Elliott, there is, I presume, a place where Rebecca and I can become better acquainted?”

“Most certainly, Your Grace. Allow me to show you.” Elliott led the way across the room with the Duke behind, bringing Rebecca along by the arm. They exited through a side door and down a short hall to another room.

This room was large and dominated by a raised bed in the center of one wall. The four posts of the bed looked particularly stout and sported ropes and cuffs attached to each.

“There are any and all tools for your enjoyment in the armoire, Your Grace. Will you be requiring any assistance from the footmen in taming the filly?”

“No, I think I will not be in need of them, thank you. Though, I might trouble you to send in my valet. He is waiting in the main entry.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” said Sir Elliott, bowing. “You know the conditions, no permanent harm, excepting, of course, the defloration, and you have precisely ninety minutes until we knock on the door. Then you may remain as a larger, but still select, group gets to enjoy the teen’s favors.”

“That is understood and totally acceptable.”

As Sir Elliot left and closed the door behind him, the duke turned to Rebecca and removed his mask.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Philip Wharton, 1st Duke of Wharton, was heir to a substantial fortune and highly educated. However, when his father died in 1715, Philip, age 16, began to embrace a wild and dangerous lifestyle, squandering his inheritance on gambling and dissolute living. When he was 19 years old he was created Duke of Wharton by George I in the King's effort to solidify his support (one of the few people in English history, and the first since the 15th century, to have been raised to a Dukedom whilst still a minor and not closely related to the monarch.) He drifted to the Jacobite cause (supporters of the deposed Stuart line against the Hanoverian Georges). In 1718 (or 19), he and a few friends founded the first Hellfire Club, mostly as an irreverent joke. The members met for debauchery and performing parodies of religious rites. It was so scandalous, that a law was passed against it and it was disbanded in 1721.

As an illustration of his prolificacy, in 1720, Wharton became a major investor in the South Sea Company. When the bubble burst, he lost £120,000 ($39 Million in 2019).

After our story, he became deeper involved in opposition to the King and in debt. Eventually he left England and enrolled in the Jacobite army to be labeled a traitor. He died penniless and in deep dept in 1731 at the age of 32.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

If any here have the appetite and time for more reading, I have started (yet) another story:

Friday Night Barb

The early part of this story is inspired by a short story I read a few years ago. It stuck with me, though the original title and author did not. Therefore, I cannot properly credit him. For that I apologize. However much of the early writing and all of the latter are mine. The bulk of the...

www.cruxforums.com

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

The Duke of Wharton

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 30 The Duke Examines His Prize

His face was pockmarked, his mouth had a cold, hard set to it and his sharp nose looked like a knife. His eyes were bright and very dark as they looked at her. The Duke was most frightening for the naïve girl. About twenty-seven, tall, and hulkling, he towered over the petite girl.

At that moment his valet entered the room. Medium sized with sandy hair and deep brown eyes, he was dressed in fine livery and bowed deeply to the Duke.

“Your Grace?”

“Undress me, James, and quickly. My pego wants to mount this virgin like a raging stallion!”

The valet began to remove his clothes and lay them carefully on a bench to the side.

“Please, Your Grace,” asked Rebecca, “Could you remove these cuffs from my wrists and arms. They hurt awful!”

“I think not quite yet my child,” he replied. “You look nice that way, vulnerable and submissive. You will be submissive, won’t you? If not, I would have to hurt you very badly.”

Frightened of the threat from this large man, Rebecca was quick to answer, “Yes, Your Grace, I’ll be a good girl. If you freed me, I could help”

With his coat, wig, cravat, buckle shoes and waistcoat off, Wharton laughed at her answer.

“Help me? HA! I’ve debauched over three dozen virgins in my twenty-seven years on earth. I can handle you with no help.” James helped remove his breeches and stockings, leaving him clad in only the customary shirt falling to his knees with no undergarments.

“It’s not good that I want you to be, girl!” He grabbed her right breast in his hand and gave it a quick, powerful squeeze, forcing Rebecca to try to back away and cry out in pain. He released her and said, “I want you to be an innocent lamb on whom I can use my Gentleman’s Usher to turn you into a Covent Garden nun! I want to see your virgin blood, coating my pego.”

James removed his shirt, leaving Lord Wharton totally naked. Rebecca gasped at the powerful ripple of muscles in his chest. This man was built like a bull!

“Let’s see the whole package I paid 70 guineas for.” With that he yanked down her pantaloons leaving her naked except for the little mini-jacket on her shoulders.

“Very pretty commodity,” he said, twirling his fingers in the thin, auburn hair of her pussy. “Very pretty.”

Suddenly, grabbing a small tuft of hair, he jerked his hand away, ripping out the hair by the roots. Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs and doubled over in self-defense.

“Nice,” the Duke said, holding the hair up to his face to observe closely and smell her pubic aroma. “This puss will be very good.” Looking into her deep blue eyes, he enjoyed the tears.

The Duke turned to his valet, “Release her bonds, I want her spread wide like a love offering on the bed.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” replied the valet. He was very used to his Master’s methods and desires, though secretly despising him. He walked behind Rebecca and began undoing her cuffs.

“Cooperate with him,” James whispered in her ear. “He will hurt you some, but if you fight him it will be much worse. I cannot help you.”

Rebecca turned to thank him, but he held his finger to her lips and then pushed her back on the bed. Swiftly he tied her wrists with the cords from the posts at the head and drew them tight until her arms were forced wide. Then he came to the foot and tied off her ankles to the posts there, but with more slack. He turned to the Duke, bowed, and said, “The wench is prepared, Your Grace. Do you wish an ointment to ease the passage?”

“Of course not, James. When have I ever cared about that? No, you just stand by with your little tenderizer for when I need her to suffer more.” The valet bowed and went to his bag to retrieve the referenced object.

Rebecca had been brought up on a farm and therefore had often seen the male member on the barnyard animals. But, never in her eighteen years had she seen a man naked. She could only gasp when she spied the Duke’s wriggling pole. It looked huge, though she had naught to compare it with. In fact, Wharton was very generously endowed and loved using his sizable member to hurt a woman, especially a virgin that he impaled.

“Oh yes.” he said, moving between Rebecca’s legs, “this will be very good!”



Pego – penis
Covent Garden nun - A prostitute.
Gentleman’s usher – penis
Commodity – cunt
Puss – general pejorative for women

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 31 The New Member

Back in the Ballroom, Sir Elliott and the Prince were sharing some Champagne with the newest member of the Second Hellfire Club, John Hervey, 2nd Baron Hervey.

“I’m so glad you deigned to join our club, John,” said the Prince. “I’m sure you’ll find it quite diverting.””

“Indeed,” agreed Sir Elliott. “Now that you’ve been styled a “Lord,” you need to sample some of the Lordly pleasures the club offers.”

“I’m looking forward to that, Sir, and Your Royal Highness. But, tell me, why the “Second” club? I thought Duke Wharton founded The Hellfire Club.”

“He did, in 1718.” said Elliott. “But that was a joke, meant to shock the outside world. The supposed president of that club was the Devil and the members called themselves devils. He also admitted men and women as equals. All of which created a great scandal, which Wharton enjoyed immensely”

“Then, two years ago,” the Prince continued the story, “my father, under the influence of Wharton's political enemy, Robert Walpole, put forward a Bill "against 'horrid impieties,'" aimed at the club. Wharton's political opposition used his membership to remove him from Parliament and he disbanded the club. He gave us permission to re-institute the club secretly. Meanwhile, he’s become a Freemason, and is Grand Master of England.”

All three laughed heartily.

“I hope you will join a little private group, who will be enjoying Rebecca’s favors after the Duke finishes?” asked Sir Elliott. “The three of us and Justice Page, along with Wharton and Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu.”

“I’d be most delighted. Lady Mary and I are friends of a sort, though she disapproves of some of my tastes,” said Lord Hervey.

“As do we all,” said Sir Elliott, laughing good-naturedly. “But we still enjoy your company – as we all, I believe I can say, enjoy Lady Mary’s.”

All expressed agreement.

“A truly remarkable woman. Her descriptions of the Turkish seraglios and hammans and the things that go on there among the females would stir the loins of the most jaded old lecher.” said the Prince.

“And, Lady Mary seems to have been intimately acquainted with those activities,” added Sir Elliott with a broad wink.

“Our session with Rebecca should be most rewarding and amusing. The girl has been led to believe the judge might pardon her death sentence if she pleases him enough,” added Grabbe.

“Do you think she can do so?” asked Hervey.

“Most assuredly,” laughed Sir Elliott. “On next St Geoffrey’s Day!” At this, all three men burst into raucous laughter.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

"On next St Geoffrey’s Day" was an expression at the time referring to the fact that there was no English St. Geoffrey or his day (although some claim that St. Ceolfrith is a cognate for Geoffrey). Therefore, the slang term meant, "never."

Lord Hervey


Lady Mary (dressed as a Turkish noblewoman)

Her circle included many of the literary lights of the day, including the poet Alexander Pope. It is reported that when he proposed to her, she laughed loudly
"Pope Makes Love To Lady Mary Wortley Montagu," by William Powell Frith

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Such a wonderful cast of real-life characters to draw from in the early years of 18th century London!

John, Lord Hervey, who will appear again shortly, was a fascinating character of the time. He described (through a literary satire) his time at Cambridge: "He went vigorously through a Course of Academical Learning, drank with his Tutor, lay with his Laundress, broke the Chapel Windows, and then took a Degree of Master of Arts".

Hervey early acquired in Paris, the habit of wearing white make-up to give his features a fashionable pallor. For a time, he wore a silk eye patch for chronic watering of the eye, and his health steadily worsened until his frailty became proverbial. His generally high-strung nature and frequent fainting spells made his "effeminacy" a subject for cruel satire.

Hervey could often be seen in the London circle of aristocrats where, observed Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, "writing verse was as common as taking snuff". Another of Lady Mary's morceaux choisi has branded Hervey as the archetype of the so-called "Third Sex": "The world", she observed, "consists of men, women, and Herveys"

Hervey's ill health and effeminacy did not hinder his amorous pursuits. In 1720, at the age of 23, he secretly courted and then married Mary Lepell, a Maid of Honour to the Princess of Wales, a maid whom Alexander Pope is believed also to have fancied. In due course Mary Lepell gave birth to the first of the eight children she was to bear Hervey during their lifetime marriage – sufficient proof of the compatibility of effeminacy and virility.

It is well-documented that Hervey had many males lovers. For instance, in 1726, he met and began wooing a 21 year old country squire named Henry Fox. After Henry returned to his estate in Redlinch, Somerset, he and Hervey regularly courted one another through a fond epistolary intercourse. But when they met again in London the following year, Henry brought along his brother Stephen, aged 23, and Hervey, aged 31, promptly redirected his affection toward the older brother.

 

[Barbaria1]

Such a wonderful cast of real-life characters to draw from in the early years of 18th century London!

John, Lord Hervey, who will appear again shortly, was a fascinating character of the time. He described (through a literary satire) his time at Cambridge: "He went vigorously through a Course of Academical Learning, drank with his Tutor, lay with his Laundress, broke the Chapel Windows, and then took a Degree of Master of Arts".

Hervey early acquired in Paris, the habit of wearing white make-up to give his features a fashionable pallor. For a time, he wore a silk eye patch for chronic watering of the eye, and his health steadily worsened until his frailty became proverbial. His generally high-strung nature and frequent fainting spells made his "effeminacy" a subject for cruel satire.

Hervey could often be seen in the London circle of aristocrats where, observed Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, "writing verse was as common as taking snuff". Another of Lady Mary's morceaux choisi has branded Hervey as the archetype of the so-called "Third Sex": "The world", she observed, "consists of men, women, and Herveys"

Hervey's ill health and effeminacy did not hinder his amorous pursuits. In 1720, at the age of 23, he secretly courted and then married Mary Lepell, a Maid of Honour to the Princess of Wales, a maid whom Alexander Pope is believed also to have fancied. In due course Mary Lepell gave birth to the first of the eight children she was to bear Hervey during their lifetime marriage – sufficient proof of the compatibility of effeminacy and virility.

It is well-documented that Hervey had many males lovers. For instance, in 1726, he met and began wooing a 21 year old country squire named Henry Fox. After Henry returned to his estate in Redlinch, Somerset, he and Hervey regularly courted one another through a fond epistolary intercourse. But when they met again in London the following year, Henry brought along his brother Stephen, aged 23, and Hervey, aged 31, promptly redirected his affection toward the older brother.

Have you checked out Wragg’s ancestors?

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 32 The Virgin is Despoiled

Looking at the pretty eighteen-year old virgin, spread and bound for his pleasure, Lord Wharton was consumed by lust. Nevertheless, he took his time. He knew these moments, just before he ripped her hymen and made her his whore, were precious and never to be experienced again. He wanted to appreciate every luscious inch of the young body presented for his sexual passion.

The soft, inner surface of her shapely thighs, like ivory in their whiteness. The full swell of her hips for bearing the children (that she would probably not live to bear). The youthfully thin fur of sweet auburn covering her pussy, which in turn, with her legs wide-spread, opened invitingly to his gaze.

Continuing upward, her very small waist tempted with the slightly convex center of her belly, and the deep, sexy navel. Despite being thin, Rebecca sported firm, medium sized breasts, milky white, capped with light coral aureoles and small, hard with fear, delectable, pink nipples.

The girl’s chest and cheeks had a light dusting of freckles that set off her creamy, flawless skin. A small mouth with pink lips, an upturned little nose, high cheekbones, and blue eyes glistening with tears made for an innocent yet very sensual face, framed by the halo of the soft auburn curls of her lustrous hair.

For innocent Rebecca, naked and tied helpless with a large hulk of a man about to force himself upon her, the waiting was a terrifying nightmare. She cried while whispering, please! over and over.

The Duke brought his raging sugar stick, drooling with pre-desire, to the entrance of her temple of love and rubbed the tip up and down the tempting slit. Rebecca moaned in shame and fear, while the Duke groaned with the delicious feeling the contact produced.

Pushing forward, the head lodged between those soft nether-lips and touched the inner petals. While the frightened girl had no lubrication yet, the Duke’s copious pre-emission facilitated the invasion. A stronger push brought only a small additional purchase. He smiled with satisfaction. This was indeed, an unspoilt virgin, whose box would be as tight as her ass (which, he thought, he might also get to sample this evening).

These cruel thoughts made his tool become yet harder and he abandoned his attempt at restraint. The Duke’s preferred method with the many virgins he debauched was to go very slowly at first and then drive home suddenly with all his might. And, thus, he did with Rebecca. He drew slightly back and drove forward with all the strength of his brawny body to force a good two inches of his hard flesh in her warm pot.

Rebecca let out a scream of pain as her unprepared vagina had to accommodate the huge member in only a moment. She was sure he had torn her in half.

“Awwwwwa!! Please, don’t!” the girl pleaded as Wharton prepared for a second thrust.

Undeterred, even encouraged by her piteous pleading, he drove again, ripping through her maidenhead and achieving five inches of penetration, painfully scraping the soft inner membrane. Not pausing for her hoarse screams, he thrust again until buried to the hilt with the bound girl writing in pain, skewered by his massive flesh.

Rebecca was only semi-conscious as she felt her pussy ripped and degraded. But, in a moment she was brought back to full awareness and agony. Wharton had signaled to his valet, standing beside ready for the role he often reluctantly played in these tragedies. He raised his tenderizer, as the Duke called the short six tail flogger, and brought it down hard on the girl’s soft, vulnerable breasts. A flash of pain in her tender titties drove Rebecca to renewed screams and flailing.

Withdrawing his member until just the head was still between the sweet lips, Wharton was gratified to see the virgin blood covering his tool.

Now the Duke and his servant pounded the girl in time, sugar stick ramming and ripping her cunt while leather strips punished her innocent breasts! Though blood and his pre-cum somewhat lubricated the pussy, the tightness of the girl and the friction was driving the man mad. And her screams of pain and desperate pleading were music to his ears.

Wharton held off as long as he could, but within two minutes, he emptied his tallywags deep in her womb with a cry of release and triumph.


sugar stick - penis
tallywags - testicles

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 32 The Virgin is Despoiled

Looking at the pretty eighteen-year old virgin, spread and bound for his pleasure, Lord Wharton was consumed by lust. Nevertheless, he took his time. He knew these moments, just before he ripped her hymen and made her his whore, were precious and never to be experienced again. He wanted to appreciate every luscious inch of the young body presented for his sexual passion.

The soft, inner surface of her shapely thighs, like ivory in their whiteness. The full swell of her hips for bearing the children (that she would probably not live to bear). The youthfully thin fur of sweet auburn covering her pussy, which in turn, with her legs wide-spread, opened invitingly to his gaze.

Continuing upward, her very small waist tempted with the slightly convex center of her belly, and the deep, sexy navel. Despite being thin, Rebecca sported firm, medium sized breasts, milky white, capped with light coral aureoles and small, hard with fear, delectable, pink nipples.

The girl’s chest and cheeks had a light dusting of freckles that set off her creamy, flawless skin. A small mouth with pink lips, an upturned little nose, high cheekbones, and blue eyes glistening with tears made for an innocent yet very sensual face, framed by the halo of the soft auburn curls of her lustrous hair.

For innocent Rebecca, naked and tied helpless with a large hulk of a man about to force himself upon her, the waiting was a terrifying nightmare. She cried while whispering, please! over and over.

The Duke brought his raging sugar stick, drooling with pre-desire, to the entrance of her temple of love and rubbed the tip up and down the tempting slit. Rebecca moaned in shame and fear, while the Duke groaned with the delicious feeling the contact produced.

Pushing forward, the head lodged between those soft nether-lips and touched the inner petals. While the frightened girl had no lubrication yet, the Duke’s copious pre-emission facilitated the invasion. A stronger push brought only a small additional purchase. He smiled with satisfaction. This was indeed, an unspoilt virgin, whose box would be as tight as her ass (which, he thought, he might also get to sample this evening).

These cruel thoughts made his tool become yet harder and he abandoned his attempt at restraint. The Duke’s preferred method with the many virgins he debauched was to go very slowly at first and then drive home suddenly with all his might. And, thus, he did with Rebecca. He drew slightly back and drove forward with all the strength of his brawny body to force a good two inches of his hard flesh in her warm pot.

Rebecca let out a scream of pain as her unprepared vagina had to accommodate the huge member in only a moment. She was sure he had torn her in half.

“Awwwwwa!! Please, don’t!” the girl pleaded as Wharton prepared for a second thrust.

Undeterred, even encouraged by her piteous pleading, he drove again, ripping through her maidenhead and achieving five inches of penetration, painfully scraping the soft inner membrane. Not pausing for her hoarse screams, he thrust again until buried to the hilt with the bound girl writing in pain, skewered by his massive flesh.

Rebecca was only semi-conscious as she felt her pussy ripped and degraded. But, in a moment she was brought back to full awareness and agony. Wharton had signaled to his valet, standing beside ready for the role he often reluctantly played in these tragedies. He raised his tenderizer, as the Duke called the short six tail flogger, and brought it down hard on the girl’s soft, vulnerable breasts. A flash of pain in her tender titties drove Rebecca to renewed screams and flailing.

Withdrawing his member until just the head was still between the sweet lips, Wharton was gratified to see the virgin blood covering his tool.

Now the Duke and his servant pounded the girl in time, sugar stick ramming and ripping her cunt while leather strips punished her innocent breasts! Though blood and his pre-cum somewhat lubricated the pussy, the tightness of the girl and the friction was driving the man mad. And her screams of pain and desperate pleading were music to his ears.

Wharton held off as long as he could, but within two minutes, he emptied his tallywags deep in her womb with a cry of release and triumph.


sugar stick - penis
tallywags - testicles

I do feel a responsibility to renounce the disgusting and unjust fate of Rebecca here. It revolts me. However, as an author, I must be faithful to the history that I have researched.

 

[Migoz2]

I do feel a responsibility to renounce the disgusting and unjust fate of Rebecca here. It revolts me. However, as an author, I must be faithful to the history that I have researched.

Your sacrifice on our behalf (and that of history) is greatly appreciated.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Chapter 33 The Gang Comes Together for a Game of Chance

A while later, the Duke, fully recovered, (though the same could not be said for Rebecca) sat in an easy chair in his banyan, thoughtfully brought along by his valet. James, the valet, was gently wiping the girl’s brow with a cool cloth and whispering soothing words in her ear. Wharton was used to the excessive compassion of his servant and did not mind, provided it did not interfere with his enjoyment of sluts.

The Duke languidly gazed at the sweat-covered, tied girl and the mixture of blood and semen dripping from her cunt, waiting patiently for his arousal to return.

A knock came on the door, followed a few moments later by it admitting Sir Elliott and his “special” guests. These were the Prince, Lord Hervey, Justice Page, and Lady Montagu, as well as two of Grabbe’s footmen, bearing trays of Champagne.

Wharton sprang to his feet, bowed to the Prince, “Your Royal Highness,” and kissed the Lady’s hand, “Enchanted to be in your radiant presence, again, my Lady!”

“Calm yourself Wharton,” replied Montagu with a coy smile. “I’m here, like the others, to enjoy our new Lamb, not flirt with a conceited Lord.”

“You cut me to the heart. But ‘hope springs eternal in the human breast’ as your foppish poet friend Pope is fond of saying. He threatens to put it in a poem one of these days. The man threatens too much.”

“Alexander is a man of far finer and more normal tastes than you, Philip. However, I would loath crush your breast. So, spring on! – but not tonight!”

“Your wish is my command,” said the Duke, bowing again to kiss her hand.

“Now he’s quoting that Frenchman, Galland and his Aladdin story. How droll, Wharton” said the Prince.

“Come Your Royal Highness, Lady and Gentlemen.” Said Sir Elliott. “Let's raise a glass to the lovely prize we are to share.”

At this suggestion, the six rich and powerful persons teach took a glass of Champagne and turned their attention to the poor country girl, Rebecca, still tied and helpless on the bed.

“What a sweet young flower, she is, Sir Elliott!” said Lady Mary. “Your praise did her scant justice.”

“Thank you, my Lady, though the Duke here has ‘plucked” the flower,” replied Grabbe.

“Oh, but there’s still so much to enjoy here.” Said Lady Mary, stroking Rebecca’s ankle. “I can assure you they would have extensive uses for her in a Turkish seraglio.”

“Would you show us what you mean, my Lady,” said the Prince with a half-bow. “we would be honoured to learn from your vast knowledge of the Orient.”

“It’s not really best with her tied like that,” said Lady Mary.

“Robert, James,” Sir Elliott called a footman and Wharton’s valet. “Arrange the girl as Lady Mary instructs you. Lady Mary, you will find the room equipped with all the apparatus you require.”

Supervising the servants with the precision and confidence of a dockyard foreman, Lady Mary found that there was indeed all she needed and achieved her goal in a few minutes. Rebecca, still naked was standing in the center of the room, her arms raised and apart, wrists tied to ropes through ceiling pulleys and her ankles tied to floor rings forcing her legs several feet apart. Still reeling from the violent rape, her head hung, shrouded by her auburn curls.

“Now, Sir Elliott, the naughty harem köle kız is ready to be punished. I presume you have the usual selection of flats and sharps?

“More than the usual. Robert, open the armoires.”

The footman opened the doors of two large armoires on the wall. On hangers inside were hanging a spectacular collection on floggers, whips, canes, birches and paddles.

“Your Royal Highness, Lady, and Gentlemen, choisissez vos armes!”

After each had chosen their own instrument of pain, Sir Elliott explained the rules.

“As you all know, Rebecca is a valuable possession of the club and only ours for less than a fortnight. Therefore, we must set limits on the early abuse she is given.”

He produced a deck of playing cards. “Please draw a card. The number is the number of blows you may inflict, Kings, Queens and Knaves are 11 each. Hearts are trump, doubling the strokes.”

Following strict protocol, he offered the deck first to the Prince who drew a six of hearts.

“Only six but with trumps, it’s Douze.” crowed His Royal Highness.

Next, the Duke drew a five of Diamonds. “Only Five? I’ll have to make them count!”

Lord Hervey drew a three of hearts. “That’s good for six,” said Sir Elliott.

Lady Mary drew a Queen of Spades. “The Lady draws a Lady for eleven,” quipped the Duke.

Justice Page drew a King of Clubs. “The Black King looks like Sir Francis handing down the death sentence,” observed Lady Mary. The justice, who had no sense of humour, simply responded, “At least I got eleven.”

Sir Elliott drew a five of hearts. “Five, but trumps makes ten,” he cried. “I’ll make the girl do a Buttock-ball for us!”


banyan – a loose dressing robe modeled on Japanese style and name
harem köle kız - harem slave girl, Turkish
flats and sharps – weapons (flat blades and sharp points)

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

To supply the reader visual images of the "Gang"
George, Prince of Wales

Philip, Duke of Wharton

John, Lord Hervey
A poet
Sir Francis Page, Justice

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Sir Elliott Grabbe (no existing portraits known)

 

[Harsh Martinet]

Chapter 33 The Gang Comes Together for a Game of Chance

A while later, the Duke, fully recovered, (though the same could not be said for Rebecca) sat in an easy chair in his banyan, thoughtfully brought along by his valet. James, the valet, was gently wiping the girl’s brow with a cool cloth and whispering soothing words in her ear. Wharton was used to the excessive compassion of his servant and did not mind, provided it did not interfere with his enjoyment of sluts.

The Duke languidly gazed at the sweat-covered, tied girl and the mixture of blood and semen dripping from her cunt, waiting patiently for his arousal to return.

A knock came on the door, followed a few moments later by it admitting Sir Elliott and his “special” guests. These were the Prince, Lord Hervey, Justice Page, and Lady Montagu, as well as two of Grabbe’s footmen, bearing trays of Champagne.

Wharton sprang to his feet, bowed to the Prince, “Your Royal Highness,” and kissed the Lady’s hand, “Enchanted to be in your radiant presence, again, my Lady!”

“Calm yourself Wharton,” replied Montagu with a coy smile. “I’m here, like the others, to enjoy our new Lamb, not flirt with a conceited Lord.”

“You cut me to the heart. But ‘hope springs eternal in the human breast’ as your foppish poet friend Pope is fond of saying. He threatens to put it in a poem one of these days. The man threatens too much.”

“Alexander is a man of far finer and more normal tastes than you, Philip. However, I would loath crush your breast. So, spring on! – but not tonight!”

“Your wish is my command,” said the Duke, bowing again to kiss her hand.

“Now he’s quoting that Frenchman, Galland and his Aladdin story. How droll, Wharton” said the Prince.

“Come Your Royal Highness, Lady and Gentlemen.” Said Sir Elliott. “Let's raise a glass to the lovely prize we are to share.”

At this suggestion, the six rich and powerful persons teach took a glass of Champagne and turned their attention to the poor country girl, Rebecca, still tied and helpless on the bed.

“What a sweet young flower, she is, Sir Elliott!” said Lady Mary. “Your praise did her scant justice.”

“Thank you, my Lady, though the Duke here has ‘plucked” the flower,” replied Grabbe.

“Oh, but there’s still so much to enjoy here.” Said Lady Mary, stroking Rebecca’s ankle. “I can assure you they would have extensive uses for her in a Turkish seraglio.”

“Would you show us what you mean, my Lady,” said the Prince with a half-bow. “we would be honoured to learn from your vast knowledge of the Orient.”

“It’s not really best with her tied like that,” said Lady Mary.

“Robert, James,” Sir Elliott called a footman and Wharton’s valet. “Arrange the girl as Lady Mary instructs you. Lady Mary, you will find the room equipped with all the apparatus you require.”

Supervising the servants with the precision and confidence of a dockyard foreman, Lady Mary found that there was indeed all she needed and achieved her goal in a few minutes. Rebecca, still naked was standing in the center of the room, her arms raised and apart, wrists tied to ropes through ceiling pulleys and her ankles tied to floor rings forcing her legs several feet apart. Still reeling from the violent rape, her head hung, shrouded by her auburn curls.

“Now, Sir Elliott, the naughty harem köle kız is ready to be punished. I presume you have the usual selection of flats and sharps?

“More than the usual. Robert, open the armoires.”

The footman opened the doors of two large armoires on the wall. On hangers inside were hanging a spectacular collection on floggers, whips, canes, birches and paddles.

“Your Royal Highness, Lady, and Gentlemen, choisissez vos armes!”

After each had chosen their own instrument of pain, Sir Elliott explained the rules.

“As you all know, Rebecca is a valuable possession of the club and only ours for less than a fortnight. Therefore, we must set limits on the early abuse she is given.”

He produced a deck of playing cards. “Please draw a card. The number is the number of blows you may inflict, Kings, Queens and Knaves are 11 each. Hearts are trump, doubling the strokes.”

Following strict protocol, he offered the deck first to the Prince who drew a six of hearts.

“Only six but with trumps, it’s Douze.” crowed His Royal Highness.

Next, the Duke drew a five of Diamonds. “Only Five? I’ll have to make them count!”

Lord Hervey drew a three of hearts. “That’s good for six,” said Sir Elliott.

Lady Mary drew a Queen of Spades. “The Lady draws a Lady for eleven,” quipped the Duke.

Justice Page drew a King of Clubs. “The Black King looks like Sir Francis handing down the death sentence,” observed Lady Mary. The justice, who had no sense of humour, simply responded, “At least I got eleven.”

Sir Elliott drew a five of hearts. “Five, but trumps makes ten,” he cried. “I’ll make the girl do a Buttock-ball for us!”


banyan – a loose dressing robe modeled on Japanese style and name
harem köle kız - harem slave girl, Turkish
flats and sharps – weapons (flat blades and sharp points)

Glad to see the female member of this entourage gets to inflict the maximum number of strokes. What instrument shall she select?