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PrPr obviously still has a Kipling theme going on " the female of the species" and all that .
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Rebecca and The Bloody Codes
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
- Start date
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Buttock-ball - a dance attended by prostitutes
Harsh Martinet
Consul
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 34 The Harem Slave is Punished
“Now,” continued Grabbe, “if His Royal Highness doesn’t object, I suggest the order be least to greatest strokes, which means…” he looked around, “The Duke first, Lord Hervey second, myself third, Lady Mary fourth, Justice Page fifth, king over queen, His Highness last and surely best?”
“I would prefer that order. Le premier sera le dernier,” said the Prince.
“You are most gracious, Your Royal Highness,” said Elliott with a small bow. Your Grace, what weapon did you choose? Show us what you can do with it.”
The Duke held up his instrument for all to see. It was a three-foot-long belt with pyramid-shaped iron studs attached in pairs every two inches on both sides.
“Call me old fashioned, like an Elizabethan, but I always like to beat a Covent Garden Nun on the pratts.”
So saying, the Duke walked behind Rebecca. The girl was just now coming to full consciousness of her predicament. Looking around at the six notables, several in the process of undressing and all carrying whips, horror engulfed her. Pleading to no one in particular, she kept repeating, “Please, please, please! I’ll be good! I swayer I vill!”
Ignoring the pitiful cries, Wharton wound up and delivered a smashing blow to her rear.
“Ahhh!! Please, No!”
The Duke hit her ass four more times leaving the soft flesh red and bruised where the studs dug into the flesh. The others applauded. By now, most were down to waistcoat and breeches. Lady Mary had removed her kerchief and long gown and a petticoat, but retained her stays and under-petticoat. The Duke, as previously noted, wore only his banyan.
The footmen and valet had been kept busy helping the gentlemen undress and folding their clothes. As previously arranged by Sir Elliott, a footman regularly appeared at the door with another large tray of Champagne flutes.
Sir Elliott took one and offered the libations to the others.
“This is a fine refreshment for hot work. Bubbly new wine from those foppish French. Very refreshing, however,” said the Duke of Wharton, retiring to an easy chair to observe the others attack the bound girl.
“Lord Hervey,” said Sir Elliott. “Your turn has come. Six strokes. What is your weapon?”
John Hervey was a frequent visitor at the court of the Prince and Princess of Wales at Richmond and a special favorite of the Princess. Just this year, John's elder half-brother Carr had died, whereby he became heir apparent to the Earldom of Bristol with the courtesy title of Lord Hervey. John was of very slight build with more intellectual than physical strength. However, he had no intention of being left out of the great fun of punishing Rebecca. He showed his weapon, a light, single-tail, very thin.
“I believe her soft little tummy demands my well-considered attention,” he said, in a high, soft voice. Stepping in front of the suspended girl, he quickly flicked the whip to paint a red line across her middle.
The immediate cry from the girl earned Lord Hervey a round of applause. Spurred thus on, the high-strung Lord rose above his usual physical limitations and, in short order, flailed away at Rebecca’s belly, leaving six painful lines crossing the rosy skin.
“Well done, my Lord,” said Elliott. “Well done. Now I fear it's time to show my own meager efforts.” So saying, he held up a medium length single-tail with a heavy knot tied in the extreme end. “Kanguru hide, imported from New Holland, it bites like a snake.”
Sir Elliott went to beside and slightly behind Rebecca and shook out the whip. With a firm but slow backswing, he brought his whip sailing at her middle, striking the back at the kidneys, biting around her stomach and the knotted end digging into her soft, left, flank. The girl responded with a groan of pain, as a red welt immediately appeared straight across her navel.
“Well aimed, Sir Elliott,” said the Duke. “You caught her right amidships! That whip clearly bites hard.”
Grabbe now began a slow circle around the bound girl, spreading his blows evenly between her hips and chest and spacing the hard blisters from the knot around her entire waist, back and front. All were of only moderate force, but, by the end of ten, her middle was a mass of raised, red welts and she was screaming and thrashing wildly at the ropes that held her.
“My sorry effort is complete,” said Elliott. “Now we come to Lady Mary. Can our Turkish enchantress deliver on her eleven strokes?”
“I shall certainly try. And I have the advantage of knowing, first hand, where to stimulate a girl’s special parts and her innermost fears. A three-thong flogger is just right for what I have in mind.”
She stepped directly behind Rebecca and let her hand drop so the thongs trailed on the floor. Suddenly, she flicked her wrist with little arm action and the flogger snapped up between Rebecca’s spread thighs and landed on her already swollen pussy lips. The girl surged upward and cried in pain.
For the next three minutes, Lady Mary methodically applied the same assault to Rebecca’s inner thighs, lower belly and especially pussy. When the eleven were completed, young girl hung moaning with terrible pain in her groin. Lady Mary was flushed, and her skin glistened with exertion or arousal , or both?
“There, gentlemen,” she said, panting lightly. “She will be tight and sensitive when you are looking for a place to hide your masculine endowments!” Laughter and congratulations were offered to the remarkable Lady.
“The justice drew a King. How shall you apply your eleven, Sir Francis?”
“I’m just a simple man and a servant of the law,” sneered the justice. “I think the old tried and true cat-o-nine on the back is the finest punishment. I’ve ordered it many times in the court and applied it many times with whores.”
He positioned himself behind and to the side and proceeded to give Rebecca’s back a horrific pounding. When he finished, the girl was slumped and barely conscious.
The Duke expressed disappointed that the girl should so easily escape awareness of the final, Royal punishment. “Here, James. Do you have that spirit of hartshorn with you as I instructed? Revive the wench!” Reluctantly, his valet approached Rebecca and opened a small vial under her nose. In a moment, the acrid elixir had her coughing and fully aware.
Sir Elliott spoke up, “And now we come to His Royal Highness. You drew a six of trumps. What will you use to correct the wanton slut?” He bowed and withdrew to make way for the Prince.
“All present know my love of riding and taming a new filly. A good stiff cravache is my choice to get her attention.”
The Prince used the head of the crop to raise Rebecca’s chin and to look into her blue eyes. “Are you ready to trot and canter for me, my dear? I’ll work you up to a healthy sweat before I finish.” Suddenly he flicked the crop back and forward, planting a blow on her left cheek. As Rebecca caught her breath to respond, he snapped the weighted end hard against her left and then right breasts, causing those sweet melons to erupt in pain.
As the helpless girl cried and writhed in pain, the Prince walked slowly around her, delivering very hard, smarting blows to her buttocks, thighs, and, breasts. Eventually he exhausted his allotment of twelve and bent to kiss her on the lips. “Thank you, my dear. That was most enjoyable.”
Sir Elliott, after ensuring all had fresh glasses of the bubbly wine, again took charge. “Now, as promised, each shall enjoy a go at the girl of a more amorous bent. The rules are three: No more damage, only penetrate one cavity and don’t make the others wait too terrible long!” The last rule drew laughter.
“We shall go in order of rank, save for the Duke, who shall go last, given he has already sampled her wares.”
“Fine with me, Sir Elliott,” replied His Grace, toasting their host with a deep drink of Champagne.
“And Lady Mary, by virtue of being the daughter of an Earl, shall immediately follow our Lord Hervey.”
“I’ll gladly have a go after he finishes,” she quipped. “But I refuse to follow that…man? May I send for my maid to assist me?”
“As you wish, my Lady.” Elliott nodded to a footman who went to the door and spoke to the footman waiting outside. In a minute, a pretty little, blonde lady’s maid entered. She went with Lady Mary behind a changing curtain and emerged a few minutes later, looking no different.
In the meantime, Sir Elliott gave orders, “You there,” indicating the two footmen, “Get her down and onto the bed. The Drury-Lane Vestal has more work to do tonight.”
“Your Royal Highness, would you be so kind as to take the lead?”
Covent Garden Nun - prostitute
Pratts – buttocks
Swayer – swear, Kentish
New Holland – Prior appellation for Australia
spirit of hartshorn – smelling salts
Drury-Lane Vestal – a whore, a play on Vestal Virgins
“Now,” continued Grabbe, “if His Royal Highness doesn’t object, I suggest the order be least to greatest strokes, which means…” he looked around, “The Duke first, Lord Hervey second, myself third, Lady Mary fourth, Justice Page fifth, king over queen, His Highness last and surely best?”
“I would prefer that order. Le premier sera le dernier,” said the Prince.
“You are most gracious, Your Royal Highness,” said Elliott with a small bow. Your Grace, what weapon did you choose? Show us what you can do with it.”
The Duke held up his instrument for all to see. It was a three-foot-long belt with pyramid-shaped iron studs attached in pairs every two inches on both sides.
“Call me old fashioned, like an Elizabethan, but I always like to beat a Covent Garden Nun on the pratts.”
So saying, the Duke walked behind Rebecca. The girl was just now coming to full consciousness of her predicament. Looking around at the six notables, several in the process of undressing and all carrying whips, horror engulfed her. Pleading to no one in particular, she kept repeating, “Please, please, please! I’ll be good! I swayer I vill!”
Ignoring the pitiful cries, Wharton wound up and delivered a smashing blow to her rear.
“Ahhh!! Please, No!”
The Duke hit her ass four more times leaving the soft flesh red and bruised where the studs dug into the flesh. The others applauded. By now, most were down to waistcoat and breeches. Lady Mary had removed her kerchief and long gown and a petticoat, but retained her stays and under-petticoat. The Duke, as previously noted, wore only his banyan.
The footmen and valet had been kept busy helping the gentlemen undress and folding their clothes. As previously arranged by Sir Elliott, a footman regularly appeared at the door with another large tray of Champagne flutes.
Sir Elliott took one and offered the libations to the others.
“This is a fine refreshment for hot work. Bubbly new wine from those foppish French. Very refreshing, however,” said the Duke of Wharton, retiring to an easy chair to observe the others attack the bound girl.
“Lord Hervey,” said Sir Elliott. “Your turn has come. Six strokes. What is your weapon?”
John Hervey was a frequent visitor at the court of the Prince and Princess of Wales at Richmond and a special favorite of the Princess. Just this year, John's elder half-brother Carr had died, whereby he became heir apparent to the Earldom of Bristol with the courtesy title of Lord Hervey. John was of very slight build with more intellectual than physical strength. However, he had no intention of being left out of the great fun of punishing Rebecca. He showed his weapon, a light, single-tail, very thin.
“I believe her soft little tummy demands my well-considered attention,” he said, in a high, soft voice. Stepping in front of the suspended girl, he quickly flicked the whip to paint a red line across her middle.
The immediate cry from the girl earned Lord Hervey a round of applause. Spurred thus on, the high-strung Lord rose above his usual physical limitations and, in short order, flailed away at Rebecca’s belly, leaving six painful lines crossing the rosy skin.
“Well done, my Lord,” said Elliott. “Well done. Now I fear it's time to show my own meager efforts.” So saying, he held up a medium length single-tail with a heavy knot tied in the extreme end. “Kanguru hide, imported from New Holland, it bites like a snake.”
Sir Elliott went to beside and slightly behind Rebecca and shook out the whip. With a firm but slow backswing, he brought his whip sailing at her middle, striking the back at the kidneys, biting around her stomach and the knotted end digging into her soft, left, flank. The girl responded with a groan of pain, as a red welt immediately appeared straight across her navel.
“Well aimed, Sir Elliott,” said the Duke. “You caught her right amidships! That whip clearly bites hard.”
Grabbe now began a slow circle around the bound girl, spreading his blows evenly between her hips and chest and spacing the hard blisters from the knot around her entire waist, back and front. All were of only moderate force, but, by the end of ten, her middle was a mass of raised, red welts and she was screaming and thrashing wildly at the ropes that held her.
“My sorry effort is complete,” said Elliott. “Now we come to Lady Mary. Can our Turkish enchantress deliver on her eleven strokes?”
“I shall certainly try. And I have the advantage of knowing, first hand, where to stimulate a girl’s special parts and her innermost fears. A three-thong flogger is just right for what I have in mind.”
She stepped directly behind Rebecca and let her hand drop so the thongs trailed on the floor. Suddenly, she flicked her wrist with little arm action and the flogger snapped up between Rebecca’s spread thighs and landed on her already swollen pussy lips. The girl surged upward and cried in pain.
For the next three minutes, Lady Mary methodically applied the same assault to Rebecca’s inner thighs, lower belly and especially pussy. When the eleven were completed, young girl hung moaning with terrible pain in her groin. Lady Mary was flushed, and her skin glistened with exertion or arousal , or both?
“There, gentlemen,” she said, panting lightly. “She will be tight and sensitive when you are looking for a place to hide your masculine endowments!” Laughter and congratulations were offered to the remarkable Lady.
“The justice drew a King. How shall you apply your eleven, Sir Francis?”
“I’m just a simple man and a servant of the law,” sneered the justice. “I think the old tried and true cat-o-nine on the back is the finest punishment. I’ve ordered it many times in the court and applied it many times with whores.”
He positioned himself behind and to the side and proceeded to give Rebecca’s back a horrific pounding. When he finished, the girl was slumped and barely conscious.
The Duke expressed disappointed that the girl should so easily escape awareness of the final, Royal punishment. “Here, James. Do you have that spirit of hartshorn with you as I instructed? Revive the wench!” Reluctantly, his valet approached Rebecca and opened a small vial under her nose. In a moment, the acrid elixir had her coughing and fully aware.
Sir Elliott spoke up, “And now we come to His Royal Highness. You drew a six of trumps. What will you use to correct the wanton slut?” He bowed and withdrew to make way for the Prince.
“All present know my love of riding and taming a new filly. A good stiff cravache is my choice to get her attention.”
The Prince used the head of the crop to raise Rebecca’s chin and to look into her blue eyes. “Are you ready to trot and canter for me, my dear? I’ll work you up to a healthy sweat before I finish.” Suddenly he flicked the crop back and forward, planting a blow on her left cheek. As Rebecca caught her breath to respond, he snapped the weighted end hard against her left and then right breasts, causing those sweet melons to erupt in pain.
As the helpless girl cried and writhed in pain, the Prince walked slowly around her, delivering very hard, smarting blows to her buttocks, thighs, and, breasts. Eventually he exhausted his allotment of twelve and bent to kiss her on the lips. “Thank you, my dear. That was most enjoyable.”
Sir Elliott, after ensuring all had fresh glasses of the bubbly wine, again took charge. “Now, as promised, each shall enjoy a go at the girl of a more amorous bent. The rules are three: No more damage, only penetrate one cavity and don’t make the others wait too terrible long!” The last rule drew laughter.
“We shall go in order of rank, save for the Duke, who shall go last, given he has already sampled her wares.”
“Fine with me, Sir Elliott,” replied His Grace, toasting their host with a deep drink of Champagne.
“And Lady Mary, by virtue of being the daughter of an Earl, shall immediately follow our Lord Hervey.”
“I’ll gladly have a go after he finishes,” she quipped. “But I refuse to follow that…man? May I send for my maid to assist me?”
“As you wish, my Lady.” Elliott nodded to a footman who went to the door and spoke to the footman waiting outside. In a minute, a pretty little, blonde lady’s maid entered. She went with Lady Mary behind a changing curtain and emerged a few minutes later, looking no different.
In the meantime, Sir Elliott gave orders, “You there,” indicating the two footmen, “Get her down and onto the bed. The Drury-Lane Vestal has more work to do tonight.”
“Your Royal Highness, would you be so kind as to take the lead?”
Covent Garden Nun - prostitute
Pratts – buttocks
Swayer – swear, Kentish
New Holland – Prior appellation for Australia
spirit of hartshorn – smelling salts
Drury-Lane Vestal – a whore, a play on Vestal Virgins
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
I must apologize for the great length of the last post and the same for tomorrow's. However, both include extended unitary scenes that would only be split at awkward and artificial points. I hope my poor efforts at your diversion justify the long reads.
connoisseurs
Senator
Alright, alright. I will toil me through another endless part if I can do you a favor.
Joke apart - I found the length alright. I would be a shame to split this scene.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 35 Six into One
In short order, Rebecca had been loosed from her bonds and gently laid on the bed (both servants felt strong pity for the abused girl). Laying there, on her back, arms and legs out, covered with red marks of the whippings, she provided a tempting sight to the company.
George doffed his only remaining garment, his fine cotton shirt, and approached the bed. Seeing the large man with his male member fully erect, Rebecca knew his intention. While she dreaded another rape and her vagina was sore and inflamed from Wharton’s attack and Lady Mary’s whipping, the girl felt a slight relief that the handsome Prince was the first. He had spoken kindly to her and seemed to care for her.
The Prince mounted the bed between Rebecca’s legs and moved slowly upward. He lightly stroked her thighs and tummy and pert, sore breasts. Once over her with his member close to the cunt, he caressed her cheek and said, “You are a beautiful red rose, my dear Rebecca. I’ve wanted you so much since you showed me your passion last night.”
In return she whispered the plea, “Please be gentle with me. I hurt so bad down there.”
“Of course,” he assured her. Placing his mouth on hers and moving his tongue between her lips and into her warm mouth, he used his hand to lodge the head of his glans in her swollen slit. Rebecca groaned into his kiss from the pain, but tried to relax and work with her handsome Prince.
Lifting his head, he said softly, “I am sorry, sweet little Becky, but as a warrior Prince, I must bloody my sword in conquest.” With that, he stabbed his prick into her vagina with all his might.
Rebecca screamed as he ravaged her torn and damaged flower. As he continued and increased the attack, she cried in pain and beat her little fists on his back. This just inflamed his passions more and his hips pounded faster and deeper into the girl. At last he delivered his Royal seed deep in her womb, releasing a roar of satisfaction like a young buck lion!
The others in the room applauded the Regal victory.
The Prince lay on her for a couple of minutes regaining his breath and savoring the warm hug of her swollen cunt. Rebecca just lay underneath him and cried.
As George withdrew from the bed to be enrobed by the valet, Sir Elliott resumed command.
“Lord Hervey. It’s your turn to take the wench.”
The slight-built Lord approached the bed and ordered the servants to turn the girl onto her stomach and place a pillow under her hips. After she was arranged, he told them to hold her arms and legs to prevent an escape. The Duke exchanged knowing winks with the Prince.
When John removed his shirt, several, including Lady Mary gasped. For a young, slight, effeminate man, he sported a very large erection.
“You’ve been hiding your lamp under a basket, my Lord,” quipped Sir Elliott, with a deep bow.
“Indeed Hervey,” added the Duke. “We always judged you a Molly. I’d have sworn you had a tilter, not a gaping broadsword!”
Hervey acknowledged with a nod of the head and climbed between Rebecca’s soft thighs.
Using his hands to spread her cheeks, he spied his target.
“I think the best way to tup a woman is to attack Roby Douglas with one eye.”
Lady Mary whispered to Sir Francis, “On the rare occasion it is a woman, he tups.” They both laughed at Hervey’s unsavory reputation.
Ignoring any comments, John lodged his head between the soft, beaten cheeks of the girl and surged forward. A kind of banshee-like howl came from the tortured girl as her sphincter muscle tore with the unaccustomed assault.
The servants had to hold firmly as the exhausted girl struggled with all her might against the tearing invasion of her sensitive rear. Several of the men quietly cringed at the sight and sound, though Lady Mary seemed enthralled.
After several minutes of pounding her rear approach, Lord Hervey, sweating profusely, groaned hard and collapsed on Rebecca’s back. The room was silent. Soon, he recovered and left the bed, seeking a robe. Lady Mary intercepted him and said.
“Lord Hervey, I apologize for any past aspersions I may have directed at you. That was an admirable performance.”
Lord Hervey smiled at her for a moment and then said, “Thank you, kind Lady. If you ever wish a closer, more intimate demonstration, I would be honoured to oblige.” She smiled and he bowed deeply and went to be dressed.
Sir Elliott had his footman order more Champagne and then turned to Lady Mary.
“Some might assume that a blue stocking like you would be unable to perform a part in our drama, good Lady. But I have read all your Turkish letters, and I have no doubt you can find a way to enjoy our little laced mutton.”
“Indeed, Sir Elliott. I do not fear disappointing my male peers, even Peers of the Realm,” said the woman with a saucy lilt in her voice.
Lady Mary called her maid, “Jenny come here and prepare me.” The pretty little maid came and began to rearrange the Lady’s dress. Soon it became apparent that the outfit was designed to transform rapidly into a one to facilitate amorous adventures.
Her stays removed, a slight action allowed her shift to part and expose her full breasts to the admiration of all. At thirty-four, Lady Mary, by a more active life than most aristocratic women, had maintained a trim, youthful body. Her breasts were full and round and not pendulous at all.
The maid, in one fast action released the petticoats and revealed absence of pantaloons. Instead, the woman’s hips were almost naked, covered only by a low leather belt securing a large ivory dildo projecting from her groin. Uncovered was a tight and curved pair of asscheeks that drew the attention of every man in the room, even Lord Hervey.
“I’ve not seen better pratts on a teenage whore,” said John.
“My dear Lady,” said the Prince. “You sport a godeminche that is second to none!”
“Thank Your Royal Highness, and Lord Hervey. Please note the carved ridges to give the recipient additional stimulation. And, you cannot see, but let me assure you all that the back of the device has a design to yield great pleasure to me while pumping my lover.”
“I am not surprised at either your ingenuity or your preparedness, my Lady,” said Wharton bowing. “Would you show us the apparatus in action?”
Lady Mary gave the Prince a little bow and instructed the servants to turn Rebecca over on her back. The aristocrat climbed onto the bed between those alabaster thighs with her ivory prosthetic threatening the much-used pussy of the girl. The position gave the other men a very revealing view of her own rear charms.
Rebecca panicked when she first saw the women approach her with a large penis. Is this a willjill, she thought. But as she mounted the bed, the girl realized the phallus was artificial, though that did little to calm her fears. She sobbed and struggled against the men holding her.
“Relax, my child,” she whispered to Rebecca. “It must happen so try to go with it. Believe me, I’ll emphasize your pleasure over your hurt.”
With that, she advanced and her maid, who seemed experienced at this role, guided the faux member into the wet cleft. Rebecca groaned at the invasion as Mary slowly, but inexorably slid the phallus into her body.
Once seated, Lady Mary began a slow and steady rhythm of long strokes in and out. While Rebecca groaned at first in pain, both the Lady and her maid gently stroked her breasts and thighs and stimulated her passion. Mary drove her tongue into the girl’s mouth and swirled it in the wet warmth. Soon Rebecca’s groans were mixed with moans of enjoyment.
The men observed that Lady Mary soon was flushed and panting with arousal. The regular pumping did indeed seem to somehow stimulate her own love parts and, she too, began to moan with pleasure.
The maid, apparently from extensive training, was servicing both women, stroking and sucking nipples, kneading asscheeks and teasing Rebecca’s clitoris with her fingers.
Amazingly both aggressor and victim reached their moment of release almost together, with cries of passion as Lady Mary drove her hips at top speed.
As the woman collapsed on Rebecca, the men around the room applauded in admiration.
As Mary lifted herself off the bed, Sir Elliott said, “A performance worthy of a prize stallion! You did not disappoint!”
“No one should doubt the veracity of your Sapphic scenes in the Turkish harems,” added the Prince. “You clearly write from first-hand experience!”
With Lady Mary finished, Sir Francis Page took up the same place. As befitted his no-nonsense approach, he proceeded to attack the same stretched orifice and in rather short order deposited his seed along with several others’ inside her womb.
The penultimate ravisher was Sir Elliott. Whether due to his personal preferences or to spare his valuably property further damage, he chose to bring his swollen member into contact with her mouth lips. Patiently and carefully instructing the girl, he managed to slip the head and more into the warmth and softness of her mouth. Aided by sweet ministrations of her tongue, he climaxed not long after with quick, shallow thrusts.
The Duke of Wharton who had been Rebecca’s first “lover,” now stepped up to be the last of the evening. “Turn her over, James. I want to sample her other entrance. Like My Lord Hervey, I shall attempt to navigate the Windward Passage”
His valet, giving an inaudible sigh of disgust, leapt to obey the Duke, and flipped Rebecca over on her front and wedged a pillow under her hips to help present the target. James then went up and stroked her cheek gently, while whispering in her ear, “Hold on, girl, this is the last.”
Dropping his banyan and kneeling on the bed between the damsel’s shapely legs, Wharton pumped his tool to a full erection to prepare his assault. He spread her buttcheeks and saw her anus was still slightly distended and bloody from Hervey”s brutal attack. The Duke lined up the head of his tool against that spot.
Despite being near total exhaustion, Rebecca protested. “No, No. Please no! I hurt there. I can’t abide no more. Please, no!”
Heedless of her pleas, Wharton lusted after another climax in the sweet young body. He tensed his muscles and drove ahead. Rebecca let out a terrible scream as the powerful man buried his prick to the hilt in her bowels. As he pulled it slowly out until just the glans was lodged, the girl thought he was flaying her rectum. Another hard plunge was followed by rapid action thrusting in and out. Rebecca’s screams were replaced by a high wailing of agony. After a couple of minutes, the hot liquid building in his balls could not be contained and he climaxed powerfully in the damsel’s rear.
The assemblage applauded His Grace’s successful assault as he lifted himself off the now motionless, semi-comatose female and slaked his thirst with a glass of Champagne.
The satiated abusers called on the servants to help them dress. While several of the servants would have rather have helped Rebecca, they obediently went to serving their masters.
Once dressed, Sir Elliott went to the door and instructed the footman outside to send for the Keeper to return Rebecca to her cell. Then he turned and made sure that each had a fresh filled glass of champagne. Getting their attention, he raised his glass and said, “Here’s to our new property! May she turn us a pretty penny in the next dozen days.” They all drank the toast and cheered. Shortly after, Allen arrived with Toby and Jack carrying a litter to take the naked, semi-conscious girl back to the prison.
Molly - An effeminate or gay man.
Tilter – a small sword
To tup – to have intercourse with
Roby Douglas with one eye – the anus
Blue stocking – an educated woman
Laced mutton – whore.
godeminche – a dildo
willjill – a hermaphrodite, Kentish
navigate the Windward Passage – to have anal sex.
In short order, Rebecca had been loosed from her bonds and gently laid on the bed (both servants felt strong pity for the abused girl). Laying there, on her back, arms and legs out, covered with red marks of the whippings, she provided a tempting sight to the company.
George doffed his only remaining garment, his fine cotton shirt, and approached the bed. Seeing the large man with his male member fully erect, Rebecca knew his intention. While she dreaded another rape and her vagina was sore and inflamed from Wharton’s attack and Lady Mary’s whipping, the girl felt a slight relief that the handsome Prince was the first. He had spoken kindly to her and seemed to care for her.
The Prince mounted the bed between Rebecca’s legs and moved slowly upward. He lightly stroked her thighs and tummy and pert, sore breasts. Once over her with his member close to the cunt, he caressed her cheek and said, “You are a beautiful red rose, my dear Rebecca. I’ve wanted you so much since you showed me your passion last night.”
In return she whispered the plea, “Please be gentle with me. I hurt so bad down there.”
“Of course,” he assured her. Placing his mouth on hers and moving his tongue between her lips and into her warm mouth, he used his hand to lodge the head of his glans in her swollen slit. Rebecca groaned into his kiss from the pain, but tried to relax and work with her handsome Prince.
Lifting his head, he said softly, “I am sorry, sweet little Becky, but as a warrior Prince, I must bloody my sword in conquest.” With that, he stabbed his prick into her vagina with all his might.
Rebecca screamed as he ravaged her torn and damaged flower. As he continued and increased the attack, she cried in pain and beat her little fists on his back. This just inflamed his passions more and his hips pounded faster and deeper into the girl. At last he delivered his Royal seed deep in her womb, releasing a roar of satisfaction like a young buck lion!
The others in the room applauded the Regal victory.
The Prince lay on her for a couple of minutes regaining his breath and savoring the warm hug of her swollen cunt. Rebecca just lay underneath him and cried.
As George withdrew from the bed to be enrobed by the valet, Sir Elliott resumed command.
“Lord Hervey. It’s your turn to take the wench.”
The slight-built Lord approached the bed and ordered the servants to turn the girl onto her stomach and place a pillow under her hips. After she was arranged, he told them to hold her arms and legs to prevent an escape. The Duke exchanged knowing winks with the Prince.
When John removed his shirt, several, including Lady Mary gasped. For a young, slight, effeminate man, he sported a very large erection.
“You’ve been hiding your lamp under a basket, my Lord,” quipped Sir Elliott, with a deep bow.
“Indeed Hervey,” added the Duke. “We always judged you a Molly. I’d have sworn you had a tilter, not a gaping broadsword!”
Hervey acknowledged with a nod of the head and climbed between Rebecca’s soft thighs.
Using his hands to spread her cheeks, he spied his target.
“I think the best way to tup a woman is to attack Roby Douglas with one eye.”
Lady Mary whispered to Sir Francis, “On the rare occasion it is a woman, he tups.” They both laughed at Hervey’s unsavory reputation.
Ignoring any comments, John lodged his head between the soft, beaten cheeks of the girl and surged forward. A kind of banshee-like howl came from the tortured girl as her sphincter muscle tore with the unaccustomed assault.
The servants had to hold firmly as the exhausted girl struggled with all her might against the tearing invasion of her sensitive rear. Several of the men quietly cringed at the sight and sound, though Lady Mary seemed enthralled.
After several minutes of pounding her rear approach, Lord Hervey, sweating profusely, groaned hard and collapsed on Rebecca’s back. The room was silent. Soon, he recovered and left the bed, seeking a robe. Lady Mary intercepted him and said.
“Lord Hervey, I apologize for any past aspersions I may have directed at you. That was an admirable performance.”
Lord Hervey smiled at her for a moment and then said, “Thank you, kind Lady. If you ever wish a closer, more intimate demonstration, I would be honoured to oblige.” She smiled and he bowed deeply and went to be dressed.
Sir Elliott had his footman order more Champagne and then turned to Lady Mary.
“Some might assume that a blue stocking like you would be unable to perform a part in our drama, good Lady. But I have read all your Turkish letters, and I have no doubt you can find a way to enjoy our little laced mutton.”
“Indeed, Sir Elliott. I do not fear disappointing my male peers, even Peers of the Realm,” said the woman with a saucy lilt in her voice.
Lady Mary called her maid, “Jenny come here and prepare me.” The pretty little maid came and began to rearrange the Lady’s dress. Soon it became apparent that the outfit was designed to transform rapidly into a one to facilitate amorous adventures.
Her stays removed, a slight action allowed her shift to part and expose her full breasts to the admiration of all. At thirty-four, Lady Mary, by a more active life than most aristocratic women, had maintained a trim, youthful body. Her breasts were full and round and not pendulous at all.
The maid, in one fast action released the petticoats and revealed absence of pantaloons. Instead, the woman’s hips were almost naked, covered only by a low leather belt securing a large ivory dildo projecting from her groin. Uncovered was a tight and curved pair of asscheeks that drew the attention of every man in the room, even Lord Hervey.
“I’ve not seen better pratts on a teenage whore,” said John.
“My dear Lady,” said the Prince. “You sport a godeminche that is second to none!”
“Thank Your Royal Highness, and Lord Hervey. Please note the carved ridges to give the recipient additional stimulation. And, you cannot see, but let me assure you all that the back of the device has a design to yield great pleasure to me while pumping my lover.”
“I am not surprised at either your ingenuity or your preparedness, my Lady,” said Wharton bowing. “Would you show us the apparatus in action?”
Lady Mary gave the Prince a little bow and instructed the servants to turn Rebecca over on her back. The aristocrat climbed onto the bed between those alabaster thighs with her ivory prosthetic threatening the much-used pussy of the girl. The position gave the other men a very revealing view of her own rear charms.
Rebecca panicked when she first saw the women approach her with a large penis. Is this a willjill, she thought. But as she mounted the bed, the girl realized the phallus was artificial, though that did little to calm her fears. She sobbed and struggled against the men holding her.
“Relax, my child,” she whispered to Rebecca. “It must happen so try to go with it. Believe me, I’ll emphasize your pleasure over your hurt.”
With that, she advanced and her maid, who seemed experienced at this role, guided the faux member into the wet cleft. Rebecca groaned at the invasion as Mary slowly, but inexorably slid the phallus into her body.
Once seated, Lady Mary began a slow and steady rhythm of long strokes in and out. While Rebecca groaned at first in pain, both the Lady and her maid gently stroked her breasts and thighs and stimulated her passion. Mary drove her tongue into the girl’s mouth and swirled it in the wet warmth. Soon Rebecca’s groans were mixed with moans of enjoyment.
The men observed that Lady Mary soon was flushed and panting with arousal. The regular pumping did indeed seem to somehow stimulate her own love parts and, she too, began to moan with pleasure.
The maid, apparently from extensive training, was servicing both women, stroking and sucking nipples, kneading asscheeks and teasing Rebecca’s clitoris with her fingers.
Amazingly both aggressor and victim reached their moment of release almost together, with cries of passion as Lady Mary drove her hips at top speed.
As the woman collapsed on Rebecca, the men around the room applauded in admiration.
As Mary lifted herself off the bed, Sir Elliott said, “A performance worthy of a prize stallion! You did not disappoint!”
“No one should doubt the veracity of your Sapphic scenes in the Turkish harems,” added the Prince. “You clearly write from first-hand experience!”
With Lady Mary finished, Sir Francis Page took up the same place. As befitted his no-nonsense approach, he proceeded to attack the same stretched orifice and in rather short order deposited his seed along with several others’ inside her womb.
The penultimate ravisher was Sir Elliott. Whether due to his personal preferences or to spare his valuably property further damage, he chose to bring his swollen member into contact with her mouth lips. Patiently and carefully instructing the girl, he managed to slip the head and more into the warmth and softness of her mouth. Aided by sweet ministrations of her tongue, he climaxed not long after with quick, shallow thrusts.
The Duke of Wharton who had been Rebecca’s first “lover,” now stepped up to be the last of the evening. “Turn her over, James. I want to sample her other entrance. Like My Lord Hervey, I shall attempt to navigate the Windward Passage”
His valet, giving an inaudible sigh of disgust, leapt to obey the Duke, and flipped Rebecca over on her front and wedged a pillow under her hips to help present the target. James then went up and stroked her cheek gently, while whispering in her ear, “Hold on, girl, this is the last.”
Dropping his banyan and kneeling on the bed between the damsel’s shapely legs, Wharton pumped his tool to a full erection to prepare his assault. He spread her buttcheeks and saw her anus was still slightly distended and bloody from Hervey”s brutal attack. The Duke lined up the head of his tool against that spot.
Despite being near total exhaustion, Rebecca protested. “No, No. Please no! I hurt there. I can’t abide no more. Please, no!”
Heedless of her pleas, Wharton lusted after another climax in the sweet young body. He tensed his muscles and drove ahead. Rebecca let out a terrible scream as the powerful man buried his prick to the hilt in her bowels. As he pulled it slowly out until just the glans was lodged, the girl thought he was flaying her rectum. Another hard plunge was followed by rapid action thrusting in and out. Rebecca’s screams were replaced by a high wailing of agony. After a couple of minutes, the hot liquid building in his balls could not be contained and he climaxed powerfully in the damsel’s rear.
The assemblage applauded His Grace’s successful assault as he lifted himself off the now motionless, semi-comatose female and slaked his thirst with a glass of Champagne.
The satiated abusers called on the servants to help them dress. While several of the servants would have rather have helped Rebecca, they obediently went to serving their masters.
Once dressed, Sir Elliott went to the door and instructed the footman outside to send for the Keeper to return Rebecca to her cell. Then he turned and made sure that each had a fresh filled glass of champagne. Getting their attention, he raised his glass and said, “Here’s to our new property! May she turn us a pretty penny in the next dozen days.” They all drank the toast and cheered. Shortly after, Allen arrived with Toby and Jack carrying a litter to take the naked, semi-conscious girl back to the prison.
Molly - An effeminate or gay man.
Tilter – a small sword
To tup – to have intercourse with
Roby Douglas with one eye – the anus
Blue stocking – an educated woman
Laced mutton – whore.
godeminche – a dildo
willjill – a hermaphrodite, Kentish
navigate the Windward Passage – to have anal sex.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 36 June 3rd and 4th , Recovery
Back in her cell, Rebecca was laid on her cot. Keeper Allen dismissed Toby and Jack (who both very much wished to stay) and had Mistress Bly attend to Rebecca as he sent for Dr. Johnson, the physician on call to Ramsey House.
The practice of Medicine in England in the early 18th century was unregulated and often incompetent. Various barbers, surgeons and apothecaries claimed to be doctors. The few trained men belonged to The Royal College of Physicians of London. Dr. Johnson was one of these. He had trained in medicine at Oxford and studied broadly, from the writings of Hippocrates to Thomas Sydenham’s seminal work, Medical Observations Concerning the History and Cure of Acute Diseases published in 1676. Sir Elliott had retained him to attend to the “special” female prisoners, whose health was required for them to pay on his investment.
The doctor arrived promptly and examined Rebecca. He was extremely familiar with her class of injury, having worked at Ramsey House for three years. He applied salves and bandages where needed, and left more ointments for later application.
The Keeper asked when she would be fit for work and received the answer, two days, maybe three. Dr. Johnson gave Rebecca a sleeping draught of Laudanum and left, saying he would be back early the next day.
Allen emphasized to Mistress Bly, the great value the owners placed on Rebecca and instructed that she or a maid be in the cell constantly to look after her. If any hint of a crisis occurred, she was to send immediately for Dr. Johnson and then for Breaker.
Sleeping deeply from the opiate, Rebecca passed a mostly quiet night, with brief nightmares, undoubtedly of her treatment the previous evening. In the morning she slept in to almost 9 AM. About that time Dr. Johnson arrived.
Rebecca woke to some pain, but the doctor immediately gave her a light dose of laudanum, which quieted her. He removed her dressing and rebandaged what was needed. Then her gave her a complete (for 1723) physical. After giving some instructions to Mistress Bly, he left for the Keeper's office. There he found Allen with Sir Elliott,
“Thank you for attending to our girl, Doctor,” said Grabbe. “She is worth a lot to us. How is she doing? How soon can she work?”
“Always glad to help a regular client, Sir Elliott. She’s not all that bad, given the working over she appears to have received. Young and strong for her size. The welts from the beating will be gone in a day. The damage to her vagina was not serious, just a bit worse than the average violent deflowering. Her anus was torn and will take a little time to heal. I expect full recovery and ability to perform vaginally by tomorrow evening. It may be somewhat painful, but normal intercourse will not re-damage her. I’d give her another two days to recover anally, if you don’t want to take a chance on serious damage or risk putrefaction and fever.”
“We will follow your advice as always, James. I was instructed to ask you to stop by Leicester House later today?”
“Of course. Do you know the reason?”
“Princess Caroline is worried about her youngest, Princess Mary. The babe is just three months and not as well as her mother thinks she should be. She doesn’t trust the royal physicians and wants your opinion.”
“I’m glad to consult, though I think she worries too much. She’s given birth to seven children and only one has died, far better than most.”
“Between you and me,” said Sir Elliott, “it’s that one that causes the worry. He died at almost exactly the age that Mary is now. And, in the middle of that terrible row with the King, separating the Prince and Princess from their children. Ever since little Prince George died, Caroline has hated her father-in-law and blamed him for the babe’s death. Therefore, it would be good for you to reassure her. The Prince will be most grateful. Who’s knows, in a few years, Royal Physician?”
“I’ll be glad to help,” said the Doctor. “And the title would be excellent for business. I’ll head there presently. And I’ll come again tomorrow to certify Rebecca for work.”
Sir Elliott stood and escorted him to the street.
Little Prince George – Prince George William of Great Britain (13 November 1717 – 17 February 1718) was the fifth child and second son of George and Caroline of Ansbach. He died aged 3 months, 4 days. The current youngest child, Princess Mary of Great Britain, would be that same age on June 9th, in four more days.
Back in her cell, Rebecca was laid on her cot. Keeper Allen dismissed Toby and Jack (who both very much wished to stay) and had Mistress Bly attend to Rebecca as he sent for Dr. Johnson, the physician on call to Ramsey House.
The practice of Medicine in England in the early 18th century was unregulated and often incompetent. Various barbers, surgeons and apothecaries claimed to be doctors. The few trained men belonged to The Royal College of Physicians of London. Dr. Johnson was one of these. He had trained in medicine at Oxford and studied broadly, from the writings of Hippocrates to Thomas Sydenham’s seminal work, Medical Observations Concerning the History and Cure of Acute Diseases published in 1676. Sir Elliott had retained him to attend to the “special” female prisoners, whose health was required for them to pay on his investment.
The doctor arrived promptly and examined Rebecca. He was extremely familiar with her class of injury, having worked at Ramsey House for three years. He applied salves and bandages where needed, and left more ointments for later application.
The Keeper asked when she would be fit for work and received the answer, two days, maybe three. Dr. Johnson gave Rebecca a sleeping draught of Laudanum and left, saying he would be back early the next day.
Allen emphasized to Mistress Bly, the great value the owners placed on Rebecca and instructed that she or a maid be in the cell constantly to look after her. If any hint of a crisis occurred, she was to send immediately for Dr. Johnson and then for Breaker.
Sleeping deeply from the opiate, Rebecca passed a mostly quiet night, with brief nightmares, undoubtedly of her treatment the previous evening. In the morning she slept in to almost 9 AM. About that time Dr. Johnson arrived.
Rebecca woke to some pain, but the doctor immediately gave her a light dose of laudanum, which quieted her. He removed her dressing and rebandaged what was needed. Then her gave her a complete (for 1723) physical. After giving some instructions to Mistress Bly, he left for the Keeper's office. There he found Allen with Sir Elliott,
“Thank you for attending to our girl, Doctor,” said Grabbe. “She is worth a lot to us. How is she doing? How soon can she work?”
“Always glad to help a regular client, Sir Elliott. She’s not all that bad, given the working over she appears to have received. Young and strong for her size. The welts from the beating will be gone in a day. The damage to her vagina was not serious, just a bit worse than the average violent deflowering. Her anus was torn and will take a little time to heal. I expect full recovery and ability to perform vaginally by tomorrow evening. It may be somewhat painful, but normal intercourse will not re-damage her. I’d give her another two days to recover anally, if you don’t want to take a chance on serious damage or risk putrefaction and fever.”
“We will follow your advice as always, James. I was instructed to ask you to stop by Leicester House later today?”
“Of course. Do you know the reason?”
“Princess Caroline is worried about her youngest, Princess Mary. The babe is just three months and not as well as her mother thinks she should be. She doesn’t trust the royal physicians and wants your opinion.”
“I’m glad to consult, though I think she worries too much. She’s given birth to seven children and only one has died, far better than most.”
“Between you and me,” said Sir Elliott, “it’s that one that causes the worry. He died at almost exactly the age that Mary is now. And, in the middle of that terrible row with the King, separating the Prince and Princess from their children. Ever since little Prince George died, Caroline has hated her father-in-law and blamed him for the babe’s death. Therefore, it would be good for you to reassure her. The Prince will be most grateful. Who’s knows, in a few years, Royal Physician?”
“I’ll be glad to help,” said the Doctor. “And the title would be excellent for business. I’ll head there presently. And I’ll come again tomorrow to certify Rebecca for work.”
Sir Elliott stood and escorted him to the street.
Little Prince George – Prince George William of Great Britain (13 November 1717 – 17 February 1718) was the fifth child and second son of George and Caroline of Ansbach. He died aged 3 months, 4 days. The current youngest child, Princess Mary of Great Britain, would be that same age on June 9th, in four more days.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 37 June 5th Plans for Rebecca
Rebecca rested peacefully that day and, with the help of more laudanum, slept well that night. The next morning, she felt much better, alert and with little pain. Mistress Bly seemed to be with her constantly and proved a fine nurse. Regular food and rest restored the girl to her normal strength.
Just after lunch, Dr. Johnson arrived. He examined her vagina and anus and pronounced her recovery to be excellent. Rebecca, who’d never met a doctor before, thanked him over and over for his kindness.
After he finished his examination and instructed Mistress Bly on the follow-up treatment, Dr. Johnson met the Keeper in his office.
“Will we be able to use Eve’s custom house later today?” asked Breaker.
“The swelling of her pudendum is completely subsided and her venereal organ is adequately healed for normal male penetration, though it may be somewhat painful for a couple of days” replied the doctor. “The organ in a virgin is, after all, designed to accept rupture by the male, and therefore recovers very rapidly.”
“That is good news, Doctor. How soon before a client can navigate the windward passage?”
“Sodomy, on the other hand, is far less natural, and apparently a very well-endowed man penetrated her there. She will require a bit more time before that entrance can be again approached. Two more days will be fine.”
“Sir Elliott thanks you kindly for your help, Dr. Johnson.” Said Breaker deferentially.
“He is most welcome. Please tell him that I visited Leicester House and everything there is calm now. The Prince was most grateful for the visit.”
“I’ll let him know presently. Thank you again, doctor.”
After the doctor left, Allen sent for Mistress Bly and instructed her concerning the plans for later that day.
Rebecca, now alert and alone in her cell, began pacing as the physical and mental trauma of the rapes at the Ball gave way to the impending doom of her execution. How long would it be? She thought it had been three days since her trial. Three from fourteen was eleven, she could work that out. Eleven days to hanging! And whipping and branding! When would those be done? By the time Mistress Bly came in with a supper and an armful of clothes, Rebecca was desperate for answers.
Bly was her usual cheerful, energetic self. She opined that the owners had been pleased with Rebecca’s cooperation and performance the other night.
“Sir Elliott, hisself, I know, remarked on how valuable you are. Why he personally arranged for Dr. Johnson to treat you.”
That was certainly encouraging. If she was to be executed, why pay a physician to treat her?
She told Rebecca not to think too much about her problems, but to concentrate on pleasing the owners.
“Eat your supper and then we’ll get these new clothes on you. You’re to see Sir Elliott this evening.”
Eve’s custom house – cunt, in the context of a fee collection for entering
Rebecca rested peacefully that day and, with the help of more laudanum, slept well that night. The next morning, she felt much better, alert and with little pain. Mistress Bly seemed to be with her constantly and proved a fine nurse. Regular food and rest restored the girl to her normal strength.
Just after lunch, Dr. Johnson arrived. He examined her vagina and anus and pronounced her recovery to be excellent. Rebecca, who’d never met a doctor before, thanked him over and over for his kindness.
After he finished his examination and instructed Mistress Bly on the follow-up treatment, Dr. Johnson met the Keeper in his office.
“Will we be able to use Eve’s custom house later today?” asked Breaker.
“The swelling of her pudendum is completely subsided and her venereal organ is adequately healed for normal male penetration, though it may be somewhat painful for a couple of days” replied the doctor. “The organ in a virgin is, after all, designed to accept rupture by the male, and therefore recovers very rapidly.”
“That is good news, Doctor. How soon before a client can navigate the windward passage?”
“Sodomy, on the other hand, is far less natural, and apparently a very well-endowed man penetrated her there. She will require a bit more time before that entrance can be again approached. Two more days will be fine.”
“Sir Elliott thanks you kindly for your help, Dr. Johnson.” Said Breaker deferentially.
“He is most welcome. Please tell him that I visited Leicester House and everything there is calm now. The Prince was most grateful for the visit.”
“I’ll let him know presently. Thank you again, doctor.”
After the doctor left, Allen sent for Mistress Bly and instructed her concerning the plans for later that day.
Rebecca, now alert and alone in her cell, began pacing as the physical and mental trauma of the rapes at the Ball gave way to the impending doom of her execution. How long would it be? She thought it had been three days since her trial. Three from fourteen was eleven, she could work that out. Eleven days to hanging! And whipping and branding! When would those be done? By the time Mistress Bly came in with a supper and an armful of clothes, Rebecca was desperate for answers.
Bly was her usual cheerful, energetic self. She opined that the owners had been pleased with Rebecca’s cooperation and performance the other night.
“Sir Elliott, hisself, I know, remarked on how valuable you are. Why he personally arranged for Dr. Johnson to treat you.”
That was certainly encouraging. If she was to be executed, why pay a physician to treat her?
She told Rebecca not to think too much about her problems, but to concentrate on pleasing the owners.
“Eat your supper and then we’ll get these new clothes on you. You’re to see Sir Elliott this evening.”
Eve’s custom house – cunt, in the context of a fee collection for entering
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
When the second son of George, Prince of Wales, was born in 1717, a long-simmering rivalry with his father, King George I boiled over. The infant's parents wanted to call the baby Louis, and suggested the Queen of Prussia and the Duke of York as sponsors. The King chose the names George William, and appointed the Lord Chamberlain, the Duke of Newcastle, as one of the baptismal sponsors of the child. The Prince, who hated Newcastle, had an open verbal fight with him at the baptism.
Subsequently, The King banished George and his wife Caroline from St. James’s Palace, the royal residence, yet retained their children there, separated from their parents. During the separation, infant George fell ill. His mother was only allowed back to see him shortly before he died. She never forgave her father-in-law. The feud was still hot during our story in 1723. The King’s first minister, Sir Robert Walpole, was working hard to achieve a reconciliation.
The Prince and Caroline moved to Leicester House on Leicester Square, one of the largest houses in London (Long before it was noted to be a long way from Tipperary). In 1719, Caroline and George bought Richmond Lodge in royal Richmond Park as a country house. They split their time between these two residences until George became King in 1727. His father died while on a visit to Hanover. The ill feelings were still strong enough, that the new monarch refused to travel to Hanover for his father’s funeral.
By the way, though the monarchs of Great Britain have made their homes elsewhere for centuries, St. James’s Palace remains the official residence (not, for instance either Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle). Therefore, foreign representatives, such as the United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom, are formally referred to as The Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s.
Leicester Square about 1750 with Leicester house in the background.
Subsequently, The King banished George and his wife Caroline from St. James’s Palace, the royal residence, yet retained their children there, separated from their parents. During the separation, infant George fell ill. His mother was only allowed back to see him shortly before he died. She never forgave her father-in-law. The feud was still hot during our story in 1723. The King’s first minister, Sir Robert Walpole, was working hard to achieve a reconciliation.
The Prince and Caroline moved to Leicester House on Leicester Square, one of the largest houses in London (Long before it was noted to be a long way from Tipperary). In 1719, Caroline and George bought Richmond Lodge in royal Richmond Park as a country house. They split their time between these two residences until George became King in 1727. His father died while on a visit to Hanover. The ill feelings were still strong enough, that the new monarch refused to travel to Hanover for his father’s funeral.
By the way, though the monarchs of Great Britain have made their homes elsewhere for centuries, St. James’s Palace remains the official residence (not, for instance either Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle). Therefore, foreign representatives, such as the United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom, are formally referred to as The Ambassador to the Court of St. James’s.
Leicester Square about 1750 with Leicester house in the background.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 38 Begging for Her Life
After supper, Mistress Bly dressed Rebecca in her new clothes. Rich red silk stockings with gold clocks, a fine linen shift that, unusually buttoned down the entire front, and only came down to mid-thigh, and a beautiful, yellow-flowered, satin dressing gown, called a banyan, that closed by means of a cloth belt. Simple shoes covered in yellow fabric completed the brief outfit.
Although Rebecca appreciated the fine material and the lovely look, she was very puzzled by its purpose. It was hardly appropriate for outdoor wear (the shoes alone would never survive a walk in the wet, dirty streets) nor was it anything like a Ball outfit (even the obscene one that she had been made to wear), or even truly sleepwear.
Bly, as was her custom, gushed over the beauty of the material and Rebecca’s suitability for it. Indeed, the colours seemed again chosen particularly to highlight her hair and skin.
Just then Keeper Allen entered and added his expression of approval to the look.
“Come along now, girl, Sir Elliott and his friends wish to speak with you.”
He led her down the usual corridors until arriving at a door, on which he knocked. Bid enter by Sir Elliott, he showed Rebecca into a moderate sized sitting room. Lounging on richly upholstered chairs were Grabbe, The Prince of Wales and Justice Page.
Allen bowed, and Rebecca, growing accustomed to the presence of important men and even royalty, did a deep curtsy.
“Rebecca, you look divine!” said Sir Elliott, rising to greet her. As he took her hand to lead her to the others, he said over his shoulder, “Thank you, keeper, you may wait outside for our call.” Breaker bowed and exited.
Grabbe left her standing in the middle of the semi-circle formed by the chairs. The Prince, of course sat in the middle, flanked by Sir Elliott in his right and Sir Francis on his left. George spoke first.
“I am gratified to hear that you are recovering well from the exertions of the other night, Rebecca,” he said in his usual kind voice. “You are a most valued flower and we don’t want you to wilt.”
“Indeed,” added Sir Elliott. “We have rather important plans for you and I’m sure you won’t let us down.”
“Oh, I von’t, Sir. I von’t!”
“From my perspective, girl,” declared Sir Francis, “you are still a condemned criminal who deserves every hardship you receive. But I am also aware that you must be concerned over your upcoming punishment and hanging.”
“Aye, your honour, that I am,” Said Rebecca as respectfully as she could.
“Therefore, dear child,” continued the Prince. “we have prevailed upon the judge to be amenable to a reconsideration of your sentence.”
Rebecca looked confused.
“He might reduce or even eliminate your sentence.”
Rebecca threw herself to her knees and clasped her hands in prayer. “OH LORD, thank you Sirs, and Your Highness. I’m so thankful. What can I do to repay you?”
“Steady on there, girl,” said the judge. “I haven’t decided to make any change now. But I might if you perform as Sir Elliott instructs you.”
“Oh, I vill! I vill.” The lovely girl, on her knees, begging for her life was a very suggestive sight and all three men felt the stirrings of arousal.
“You have been brought here now to learn what will be required of you and to demonstrate your compliance. Are you prepared to obey our commands, instantly?”
“Yes Your Royal Highness!”
“Let us see,” said Sir Elliott. “Remove your banyan, that’s your dressing gown, and stand before us.”
After supper, Mistress Bly dressed Rebecca in her new clothes. Rich red silk stockings with gold clocks, a fine linen shift that, unusually buttoned down the entire front, and only came down to mid-thigh, and a beautiful, yellow-flowered, satin dressing gown, called a banyan, that closed by means of a cloth belt. Simple shoes covered in yellow fabric completed the brief outfit.
Although Rebecca appreciated the fine material and the lovely look, she was very puzzled by its purpose. It was hardly appropriate for outdoor wear (the shoes alone would never survive a walk in the wet, dirty streets) nor was it anything like a Ball outfit (even the obscene one that she had been made to wear), or even truly sleepwear.
Bly, as was her custom, gushed over the beauty of the material and Rebecca’s suitability for it. Indeed, the colours seemed again chosen particularly to highlight her hair and skin.
Just then Keeper Allen entered and added his expression of approval to the look.
“Come along now, girl, Sir Elliott and his friends wish to speak with you.”
He led her down the usual corridors until arriving at a door, on which he knocked. Bid enter by Sir Elliott, he showed Rebecca into a moderate sized sitting room. Lounging on richly upholstered chairs were Grabbe, The Prince of Wales and Justice Page.
Allen bowed, and Rebecca, growing accustomed to the presence of important men and even royalty, did a deep curtsy.
“Rebecca, you look divine!” said Sir Elliott, rising to greet her. As he took her hand to lead her to the others, he said over his shoulder, “Thank you, keeper, you may wait outside for our call.” Breaker bowed and exited.
Grabbe left her standing in the middle of the semi-circle formed by the chairs. The Prince, of course sat in the middle, flanked by Sir Elliott in his right and Sir Francis on his left. George spoke first.
“I am gratified to hear that you are recovering well from the exertions of the other night, Rebecca,” he said in his usual kind voice. “You are a most valued flower and we don’t want you to wilt.”
“Indeed,” added Sir Elliott. “We have rather important plans for you and I’m sure you won’t let us down.”
“Oh, I von’t, Sir. I von’t!”
“From my perspective, girl,” declared Sir Francis, “you are still a condemned criminal who deserves every hardship you receive. But I am also aware that you must be concerned over your upcoming punishment and hanging.”
“Aye, your honour, that I am,” Said Rebecca as respectfully as she could.
“Therefore, dear child,” continued the Prince. “we have prevailed upon the judge to be amenable to a reconsideration of your sentence.”
Rebecca looked confused.
“He might reduce or even eliminate your sentence.”
Rebecca threw herself to her knees and clasped her hands in prayer. “OH LORD, thank you Sirs, and Your Highness. I’m so thankful. What can I do to repay you?”
“Steady on there, girl,” said the judge. “I haven’t decided to make any change now. But I might if you perform as Sir Elliott instructs you.”
“Oh, I vill! I vill.” The lovely girl, on her knees, begging for her life was a very suggestive sight and all three men felt the stirrings of arousal.
“You have been brought here now to learn what will be required of you and to demonstrate your compliance. Are you prepared to obey our commands, instantly?”
“Yes Your Royal Highness!”
“Let us see,” said Sir Elliott. “Remove your banyan, that’s your dressing gown, and stand before us.”
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 39 Instructing the Innocent
Rebecca shed her gown and stood before the men, clad only in her thin shift. Her breasts and nipples were clearly outline against the fabric.
“Spread your legs, wide.” Sir Elliott ordered in a soft, calm voice.
She did so.
“Unbutton your shift.”
Despite the experiences at the Ball and after, Rebecca was still had very modest and cringed at so wantonly exposing her body, naked, to these men. Nevertheless, the promise of having her sentence repealed was a strong incentive. She hurried to undo the buttons down the front. When she finished, the linen garment hung open, offering tantalizing glimpses of her beautiful body underneath.
“Remove your shift, drop it on the floor.”
As she did so, the men all stared at the fetching young girl and her naked body, presented for their pleasure. Her submissive posture and actions combined with her outstanding figure to arouse them to the levels of the other night.
“Now Rebecca, we hope you are a bright girl, because you have much to learn to please us and earn your pardon.” Said Elliott. “The first will be to know how to undress a man to aid him enjoying your favors. Come here; let me show you.”
Rebecca came up to Grabbe and he showed her the fall flap of his breeches. With his help, she unbuttoned the flat and lowered it to reveal the tail of his fine white shirt and the tent of his aroused manhood underneath. Gentlemen of that day rarely wore under drawers or pantaloons, as their shirts were cut with tails, long to tuck neatly around the groin for comfort. Grabbe showed Rebecca to pull apart the shirt tail to reveal and free his aroused penis. The girl blushed at the sight, a reaction that served to fuel his lust.
At Sir Elliott’s instruction she performed the same service for the other men, both of whom sported full erections.
“Now, my girl, you must learn how to work to please a man with your hands and mouth. The other night, the men (and Lady) did all the work and you just lay there. If you wish to earn clemency, you will have to learn to please a man as he just relaxes back.”
He had her take his prick and the Prince’s in each hand and start to gently pump up and down to deliver pleasure. With the naked girl kneeling between them, the men advanced to a state of high arousal in a few minutes.
“Stop with mine now, girl,” said Sir Elliot, reluctantly. “Turn your full attention to the instrument of His Royal Highness.” As she did so, George began emitting low groans of pleasure.
“Bring your mouth to the head and lick it gently with your tongue.”
Rebecca looked at Grabbe in disbelief. “Yes, I said lick it. Believe me, there are far less pleasant things you will need to do to be pardoned.”
Disgusted, but desperate, Rebecca stuck out her tongue and licked the pink head before her. At Sir Elliott’s urging, she was soon running her tongue all around the head and even up the front surface. The Prince responded with groans of sublime pleasure.
“Now take your other hand and gently stroke his scrotum.” The result was George releasing a cry and squirming in his seat. “My God, whore, that’s Damn Good!”
“That’s it, Rebecca, keep moving his twiddle-diddles in his scrotum while never stopping pumping slowly up and down his yard.” The girl did just as instructed.
“Now it is most important that you do as I say. Open your mouth and slip the head of his yard into your mouth.”
“Head of what?” asked Rebecca.
“The acorn on top of his member, the glans!” explained Sir Elliott.
Gulping in revulsion, the girl lowered her head and did as told. The head slipped in and her pretty red lips surrounded his shaft.
“Now lick even faster as you suck on it. Move your lips tightly up and down like this,” Grabbe took hold of her head and made her bob up and down on the rock-hard pike. Sounds from the prince indicated that the moment of truth was near.
“This is vital, girl, if you want to earn your freedom. Keep that in your mouth and swallow every drop he gives you. Don’t stop until he asks you to.”
Driven by fear for her life, the girl went with vigor to her task. In less than a minute her awkward, but enthusiastic efforts drove the Prince to the final ecstasy, he surged his hips up to bury his shaft in her mouth and roared as he pumped load after load of semen into her sweet, warm mouth. Rebecca swallowed what she could of the gooey liquid, though some dribbled down her chin.
At last the Royal sunk back in his chair and lifted Rebecca’s head. “Thank you, child,” he said, looking into her blue eyes.
“OK, girl, you’re not finished. Do the same for me and then the judge. With the practice on the Prince and me, you’d better do a fine job on Sir Francis if you want a pardon!”
With barely time to catch her breath, Rebecca began to perform the repulsive service in Sir Elliott. He lasted far longer than the Prince, but the girl’s talents were improving with practice and frequent instruction from the men.
With Sir Elliott thoroughly drained, she turned to Sir Francis. His member was smaller than the other two men and emitted a rank odour. But he was the one who could spare her life. She was soon sucking his glans into her mouth while exciting his shaft and cod with her hands.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, which burst open and a finely-dressed, imperious Lady swept in with Keeper Breaker trailing and bowing low. Surveying the scene, she said, in a German accent, “Well now. What scandalous dalliances have we here?”
Sir Elliott and Sir Francis swiftly rose to their feet (with some difficulty on the part of the justice due to Rebecca trying to retain his shaft in her mouth as instructed) and bowed. The Prince remained calmly seated with his manly parts exposed.
“Caroline, meine herzallerliebste Gattin. Sie sehen heute wieder holdselig aus,” he said, with real affection, “You know Elliott and Francis?”
“I do indeed. Pleased to see you both again – though I had not expected to see so much of each of you!” she said, gesturing at their exposed, rampant manhoods.
The knights made haste to stow their privates away and button their fall flaps. Rebecca, pushed to the side by Sir Francis, kneeled quietly while taking in the impressive personage who was still unknown to her. She had lustrous tresses of white-blonde hair that appeared to be natural, and lovely pink and white skin for a woman of her age. Most impressive was her magnificent bosom, shown off to perfection by the plunging neckline of her gown.
The buxom lady looked over at Rebecca, naked, kneeling by the judge with white goo smeared on her face. “George, I haven’t been introduced to this charming young thing. Please do so at once.”
“Of course. Rebecca, may I present my wife, Caroline of Brandenburg-Ansbach, Princess of Wales, Countess of Chester, Duchess and Marchioness of Cambridge, Countess of Milford Haven, Viscountess Northallerton, Baroness Tewkesbury.” Rebecca, unable to curtsey on her knees, bowed her head to the floor.
“Caroline, this is Rebecca of Kent.”
Caroline walked over, placed her hand under the girl’s chin and raised her to standing. Rebecca modestly tried to cover some of her nakedness with her hands. The Princess took her time examining the girl.
“A modest, lovely, and sweet young flower. Sir Elliott you have found a special one here.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“What brings you here so unexpectedly, Caroline?” asked her husband with a slight air of deference.
“I wanted to see Sir Elliott and thank him personally for sending Dr. Johnson to me,” replied Caroline. “He has given me such comfort and reassurance for the health of our daughter. Truly, Sir Elliott, you have my deepest gratitude.”
Grabbe smiled and bowed very deeply. “A service this knight owed without any recompense to his Princess,” said Elliott, taking her proffered hand and kissing it softly.
“It shall not be forgotten when things change,” said the Princess with a wink. “George, dear, I have accomplished my task and must be back to keep watch over meine kleinen. I leave you gentlemen to your manly endeavors.” So saying, she exited the room, with Breaker, deeply bowing, following and closing the door.
“I pray this does not cause an embarrassment at home for you, George,” said Sir Elliott.
“Oh, not at all. Caroline long ago reconciled to the need of a Prince to have mistresses and occasional debaucheries. We love each other very much and I still service the marriage bed quite regularly.”
“Indeed, seven children born; a Princely accomplishment.”
“If I may,” coughed the judge, dropping his fall flap and gesturing to his still tumescent member.
“Of course, my friend,” said the Prince. “Rebecca get back to work and make it a moment to remember for the man who controls the noose around your neck.” The men all laughed as the girl sunk to her knees before Sir Francis.
twiddle-diddles - Testicles.
yard – penis
head of the yard - glans
Rebecca shed her gown and stood before the men, clad only in her thin shift. Her breasts and nipples were clearly outline against the fabric.
“Spread your legs, wide.” Sir Elliott ordered in a soft, calm voice.
She did so.
“Unbutton your shift.”
Despite the experiences at the Ball and after, Rebecca was still had very modest and cringed at so wantonly exposing her body, naked, to these men. Nevertheless, the promise of having her sentence repealed was a strong incentive. She hurried to undo the buttons down the front. When she finished, the linen garment hung open, offering tantalizing glimpses of her beautiful body underneath.
“Remove your shift, drop it on the floor.”
As she did so, the men all stared at the fetching young girl and her naked body, presented for their pleasure. Her submissive posture and actions combined with her outstanding figure to arouse them to the levels of the other night.
“Now Rebecca, we hope you are a bright girl, because you have much to learn to please us and earn your pardon.” Said Elliott. “The first will be to know how to undress a man to aid him enjoying your favors. Come here; let me show you.”
Rebecca came up to Grabbe and he showed her the fall flap of his breeches. With his help, she unbuttoned the flat and lowered it to reveal the tail of his fine white shirt and the tent of his aroused manhood underneath. Gentlemen of that day rarely wore under drawers or pantaloons, as their shirts were cut with tails, long to tuck neatly around the groin for comfort. Grabbe showed Rebecca to pull apart the shirt tail to reveal and free his aroused penis. The girl blushed at the sight, a reaction that served to fuel his lust.
At Sir Elliott’s instruction she performed the same service for the other men, both of whom sported full erections.
“Now, my girl, you must learn how to work to please a man with your hands and mouth. The other night, the men (and Lady) did all the work and you just lay there. If you wish to earn clemency, you will have to learn to please a man as he just relaxes back.”
He had her take his prick and the Prince’s in each hand and start to gently pump up and down to deliver pleasure. With the naked girl kneeling between them, the men advanced to a state of high arousal in a few minutes.
“Stop with mine now, girl,” said Sir Elliot, reluctantly. “Turn your full attention to the instrument of His Royal Highness.” As she did so, George began emitting low groans of pleasure.
“Bring your mouth to the head and lick it gently with your tongue.”
Rebecca looked at Grabbe in disbelief. “Yes, I said lick it. Believe me, there are far less pleasant things you will need to do to be pardoned.”
Disgusted, but desperate, Rebecca stuck out her tongue and licked the pink head before her. At Sir Elliott’s urging, she was soon running her tongue all around the head and even up the front surface. The Prince responded with groans of sublime pleasure.
“Now take your other hand and gently stroke his scrotum.” The result was George releasing a cry and squirming in his seat. “My God, whore, that’s Damn Good!”
“That’s it, Rebecca, keep moving his twiddle-diddles in his scrotum while never stopping pumping slowly up and down his yard.” The girl did just as instructed.
“Now it is most important that you do as I say. Open your mouth and slip the head of his yard into your mouth.”
“Head of what?” asked Rebecca.
“The acorn on top of his member, the glans!” explained Sir Elliott.
Gulping in revulsion, the girl lowered her head and did as told. The head slipped in and her pretty red lips surrounded his shaft.
“Now lick even faster as you suck on it. Move your lips tightly up and down like this,” Grabbe took hold of her head and made her bob up and down on the rock-hard pike. Sounds from the prince indicated that the moment of truth was near.
“This is vital, girl, if you want to earn your freedom. Keep that in your mouth and swallow every drop he gives you. Don’t stop until he asks you to.”
Driven by fear for her life, the girl went with vigor to her task. In less than a minute her awkward, but enthusiastic efforts drove the Prince to the final ecstasy, he surged his hips up to bury his shaft in her mouth and roared as he pumped load after load of semen into her sweet, warm mouth. Rebecca swallowed what she could of the gooey liquid, though some dribbled down her chin.
At last the Royal sunk back in his chair and lifted Rebecca’s head. “Thank you, child,” he said, looking into her blue eyes.
“OK, girl, you’re not finished. Do the same for me and then the judge. With the practice on the Prince and me, you’d better do a fine job on Sir Francis if you want a pardon!”
With barely time to catch her breath, Rebecca began to perform the repulsive service in Sir Elliott. He lasted far longer than the Prince, but the girl’s talents were improving with practice and frequent instruction from the men.
With Sir Elliott thoroughly drained, she turned to Sir Francis. His member was smaller than the other two men and emitted a rank odour. But he was the one who could spare her life. She was soon sucking his glans into her mouth while exciting his shaft and cod with her hands.
Just then, there was a knock on the door, which burst open and a finely-dressed, imperious Lady swept in with Keeper Breaker trailing and bowing low. Surveying the scene, she said, in a German accent, “Well now. What scandalous dalliances have we here?”
Sir Elliott and Sir Francis swiftly rose to their feet (with some difficulty on the part of the justice due to Rebecca trying to retain his shaft in her mouth as instructed) and bowed. The Prince remained calmly seated with his manly parts exposed.
“Caroline, meine herzallerliebste Gattin. Sie sehen heute wieder holdselig aus,” he said, with real affection, “You know Elliott and Francis?”
“I do indeed. Pleased to see you both again – though I had not expected to see so much of each of you!” she said, gesturing at their exposed, rampant manhoods.
The knights made haste to stow their privates away and button their fall flaps. Rebecca, pushed to the side by Sir Francis, kneeled quietly while taking in the impressive personage who was still unknown to her. She had lustrous tresses of white-blonde hair that appeared to be natural, and lovely pink and white skin for a woman of her age. Most impressive was her magnificent bosom, shown off to perfection by the plunging neckline of her gown.
The buxom lady looked over at Rebecca, naked, kneeling by the judge with white goo smeared on her face. “George, I haven’t been introduced to this charming young thing. Please do so at once.”
“Of course. Rebecca, may I present my wife, Caroline of Brandenburg-Ansbach, Princess of Wales, Countess of Chester, Duchess and Marchioness of Cambridge, Countess of Milford Haven, Viscountess Northallerton, Baroness Tewkesbury.” Rebecca, unable to curtsey on her knees, bowed her head to the floor.
“Caroline, this is Rebecca of Kent.”
Caroline walked over, placed her hand under the girl’s chin and raised her to standing. Rebecca modestly tried to cover some of her nakedness with her hands. The Princess took her time examining the girl.
“A modest, lovely, and sweet young flower. Sir Elliott you have found a special one here.”
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“What brings you here so unexpectedly, Caroline?” asked her husband with a slight air of deference.
“I wanted to see Sir Elliott and thank him personally for sending Dr. Johnson to me,” replied Caroline. “He has given me such comfort and reassurance for the health of our daughter. Truly, Sir Elliott, you have my deepest gratitude.”
Grabbe smiled and bowed very deeply. “A service this knight owed without any recompense to his Princess,” said Elliott, taking her proffered hand and kissing it softly.
“It shall not be forgotten when things change,” said the Princess with a wink. “George, dear, I have accomplished my task and must be back to keep watch over meine kleinen. I leave you gentlemen to your manly endeavors.” So saying, she exited the room, with Breaker, deeply bowing, following and closing the door.
“I pray this does not cause an embarrassment at home for you, George,” said Sir Elliott.
“Oh, not at all. Caroline long ago reconciled to the need of a Prince to have mistresses and occasional debaucheries. We love each other very much and I still service the marriage bed quite regularly.”
“Indeed, seven children born; a Princely accomplishment.”
“If I may,” coughed the judge, dropping his fall flap and gesturing to his still tumescent member.
“Of course, my friend,” said the Prince. “Rebecca get back to work and make it a moment to remember for the man who controls the noose around your neck.” The men all laughed as the girl sunk to her knees before Sir Francis.
twiddle-diddles - Testicles.
yard – penis
head of the yard - glans
Kathy
Terra Nova Tramp
That poor girl being forced to swallow , you know how I feel about that subject.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
There's worse to cum!
Something tells me that the only part of her sentence that might be eliminated is the 2 pound fine (if she's lucky...) Awesome story.
Migoz2
Senator
I just want to chip in here and say how much I am enjoying this story. I have not been commenting on it recently, for a variety of reasons, but this really is incredibly powerful. It reads like a real novel, and I find myself becoming increasingly emotionally engaged with Rebecca.
Harsh Martinet
Consul
Hopefully her whipping at the cart's tail is retained....and maybe the branding. But by all means, DON'T hang her!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Unfortunately for Rebecca, justice in those days rarely was tinged with "the quality of mercy." It is most uncertain whether poor little Rebecca can do enough to win a pardon.
Sad but true. Besides, as much as I sympathise with Rebecca's unfortunate lot, the description of an old-fashioned Tyburn hanging written in your incredible style would surely be one for the ages.
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