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Rebecca and The Bloody Codes

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I really hate to nitpick but the 16th of June 1723 was a Wednesday not a Friday.
My mistake; just not how you think. The word, Friday, there was posted by mistake. On my laptop, I have listed the anticipated day for posting on CF to keep track of my preparation of the Chapters. So this chapter has Friday for 13/12/19. I should have removed it before posting, but slipped up. It never had any intended meaning of when this was happening in 1723. :oops:
I really don’t like Mary! What a bitch!
Never let it be said that Barbara withholds or tempers her expressions of outrage. But I would only point out that Lady Mary's sexual attitude toward Rebecca was written with several CF ladies in mind. Welcome to the bitch forum! ;)
 
Chapter 43 Punishment

The impact of the nine heavy thongs on the back of her ribcage, drove the breath from Rebecca. Before she could take another, Breaker struck again, this time at her kidneys. Now she did scream. Her back from sacral dimples to shoulder blades had, in less than half a minute come alive with hot burning pain.

Breaker slowed his pace after her first cry. He was in no hurry. After five blows, the damsel’s entire back glowed bright red. He also held back on the force. A discussion with Sir Elliott had concluded that too strong an attack would rip her back to shreds and most likely render her senseless. They didn’t want to lessen the and lessen the drama of the branding and tomorrow’s whipping at the cart’s tail. Nevertheless, twenty to thirty lashes with the cat, even lightly applied would be a heavy ordeal for a petite female like Rebecca.

At ten strokes, Breaker took a pause and replaced the cat in the brine. Toby handed him a large tankard of cool ale to quench his thirst. His muscular torso gleamed with sweat. The audience stirred from the reverie into which they’d slipped while savoring the whipping. Lady Mary was flushed and her hand was more insistent in Sir Elliott’s lap even as her cunt wetted down his probing fingers.

“I don’t know when I’ve witnessed such a warming sight!” she sighed to her companion. “I’m looking forward to her enduring the entire sentence. Mr. Breaker is certainly a fine bull of a man.”

Finishing his ale, Breaker seized another cat dripping with brine from the barrel and took his stand behind the weeping, sobbing young woman. The next set of ten blows was barbaric. Breaker, true to his name had broken Rebecca. Again, he refreshed himself with ale, as she hung crying from the frame.

Allen stepped up with a fresh cat and glanced at Sir Elliott, who gestured five fingers with his hand. Breaker reared back and delivered an upswing blow directly on her round ass, actually lifting the petite damsel. The next four were the hardest yet, tearing into the girl, making her scream like a wild-woman. After completing these, he halted, turned to the crowd, and acknowledged their polite applause.

Rebecca was left a twitching and moaning thing, hanging from the frame. Her back was one big welt and blood oozed from numerous cuts. Mr. Fair announced, “In accord with the discretion allowed, the flogging is completed at this point. The Keeper may proceed with the remainder of the punishment.”

The crowd stirred back to life in anticipation of the next act. Spite and Toby went out a side door and returned pushing a brazier on wheels, filled with whitened coals. Out of these projected two iron handles. Owen handed Mr. Breaker thick leather gloves since even the handles were hot to the touch.

Toby and Jacks went to the frame and, directed by Spite, rotated it 180 degrees so that Rebecca now faced the audience. Grabbing both upper rails, they tilted it backward so that her upper body now leaned slightly backward, thrusting her chest up and forward.

Many in the audience, though already aroused, gasped at the sight. Rebecca’s naked, untouched front was incredibly alluring. Gazes drifted up from her shapely legs to her flaring hips and red triangle of pussy fur to her tiny waist and then to her pretty face surrounded by the halo of auburn hair. But all eyes ended focusing on her fine, round breasts, capped with rosy coral nipples. Her labored breathing caused these soft globes to shake temptingly. All knew that these would soon be the target of a hideous assault.

Rebecca had slipped into a semi-conscious state after about the twentieth stroke. Her head slumped on her chest and she moaned in pain. The pain and general damage caused by over two dozen blows of nine thongs each, had sapped her modest strength. Now, with the assault over, she was breathing shallowly, moaning, and trying, unsuccessfully, to shut out the pain. She had never, in her short life, imagined that she would ever bear such agony. Even the rapes and whipping at the Ball paled in comparison. She had slipped into her own world of agony, mostly oblivious to what went on around her.

Jacks went and picked up one of several buckets sitting to the side. Suddenly, a flood of cold water hit her face and chest. Coughing, sputtering, and blinking, she snapped to consciousness. It took a few moments for the water to drain from her eyes and for her to focus on her surroundings. Then she saw it approaching! An iron brand in the shape of the letter “V,” glowing a very pale red, held by the Keeper and coming ever closer!

Jacks came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, just under her breasts to keep her steady for the Keeper’s aim. Rebecca pleaded like a little child.

“Oh, Lord! Please! You bain’t my bryest! Please, Please! Isn’t bannocking enough? No. Please spare me! I canna abide it! I’m Sorry! I’ll be good! I vill! I canna bayer it! Please NO!”

Rebecca’s cries grew louder and more desperate as the cruel iron came closer and closer. Breaker knew to take it slowly to both terrify the girl and to titillate the onlookers. Eventually, however, the approach was completed and he laid the end against the side of the poor young woman’s left breast, the tip of the “V” just reaching the edge of the areola.

Tears filling her eyes and her throat raw and hoarse from crying, Rebecca saw the hot metal come closer and closer until her tit exploded in fiery pain that seemed to drill down into her soul. Blinding agony left her mad with pain and screaming her lungs out. She surged against the tight straps and thrashed as much as she could as the pain seemed to go on and on even after the brand was removed. Finally, exhausted, she sagged down with her head falling onto her chest. A moment later, another pail of water splashed in her face to rouse her for the second brand.

The audience had been struck dumb by the volume of the victim’s screams when the iron was applied. Her thrusting and surging body excited one and all with lustful thoughts. Lady Mary tightened her grip on Sir Elliott’s manhood so much that he groaned and grabbed her wrist. Realizing what she had done, she apologized. “I just couldn’t help myself, Sir Elliott. The visceral arousal of seeing the iron sear her tender titflesh was irresistible. I’m truly sorry if I hurt you. I promise you can punish me appropriately afterwards!”

“I understand, my Lady, and I shall! But don’t miss this. He’s aiming for her other pap now.”

Indeed, after Spite had thrown the water in her face a second time, Rebecca was again alert and begging as she saw the iron “T” coming for her soft, white flesh. Her left breast showed an angry red “V” against her pale skin. And now the right was about to suffer the same horrid fate. Her voice, now weak and hoarse, still cried for mercy.

Taking even more time than before, Breaker moved the burning iron close and finally laid it on the middle of her right tit, directly over the nipple. Somehow, the young woman managed a scream almost as loudly as the last.

After a minute when her cries weakened to pitiful moans, Mr. Fair stepped forward.

“The punishment ordered by the court is complete. In the morrow, Thursday, at 9AM, the slut shall be fixed at the cart’s tail and whipped to Tyburn. There she shall be hung. Please leave by the side doors. You may deposit any gratuities you wish to make for the Keeper and his performance with the men standing there.” He indicated two doors where Toby and Jacks were standing with their caps out.

Sir Elliott reluctantly tore himself from Lady Mary, rose and escorted his box seat guests to examine Rebecca close-up. The five, as well as Sir Elliott, probed her lashes and brands as well as stroking her belly and cunt. The damsel was almost impervious to their liberties except to groan in pain when they worried hurt flesh.

When they were finished, Grabbe bid them farewell and shepherded Lady Mary through a rear door to a private chamber. Before long, the impact of leather on skin could be heard as well as high-pitched cries.

Toby and Jacks turned over the moneys collected to Mr. Fine and let down Rebecca. She was taken back to the same holding cell nearby and unceremoniously dropped on the floor before the heavy door was closed and locked, leaving the groaning girl in the cold and dark.



Bain't – not, be not, Kentish
Bryest – breast, Kentish
Bannocking – thrashing, Kentish
Bayer – bear, Kentish
 
. In the morrow, Thursday, at 9AM, the slut shall be fixed at the cart’s tail and whipped to Tyburn. There she shall be hung. Please leave by the side doors. You may deposit any gratuities you wish to make for the Keeper

Gratuities????

Geeze!

Enough is enough!
 
Chapter 43 Punishment

The impact of the nine heavy thongs on the back of her ribcage, drove the breath from Rebecca. Before she could take another, Breaker struck again, this time at her kidneys. Now she did scream. Her back from sacral dimples to shoulder blades had, in less than half a minute come alive with hot burning pain.

Breaker slowed his pace after her first cry. He was in no hurry. After five blows, the damsel’s entire back glowed bright red. He also held back on the force. A discussion with Sir Elliott had concluded that too strong an attack would rip her back to shreds and most likely render her senseless. They didn’t want to lessen the and lessen the drama of the branding and tomorrow’s whipping at the cart’s tail. Nevertheless, twenty to thirty lashes with the cat, even lightly applied would be a heavy ordeal for a petite female like Rebecca.

At ten strokes, Breaker took a pause and replaced the cat in the brine. Toby handed him a large tankard of cool ale to quench his thirst. His muscular torso gleamed with sweat. The audience stirred from the reverie into which they’d slipped while savoring the whipping. Lady Mary was flushed and her hand was more insistent in Sir Elliott’s lap even as her cunt wetted down his probing fingers.

“I don’t know when I’ve witnessed such a warming sight!” she sighed to her companion. “I’m looking forward to her enduring the entire sentence. Mr. Breaker is certainly a fine bull of a man.”

Finishing his ale, Breaker seized another cat dripping with brine from the barrel and took his stand behind the weeping, sobbing young woman. The next set of ten blows was barbaric. Breaker, true to his name had broken Rebecca. Again, he refreshed himself with ale, as she hung crying from the frame.

Allen stepped up with a fresh cat and glanced at Sir Elliott, who gestured five fingers with his hand. Breaker reared back and delivered an upswing blow directly on her round ass, actually lifting the petite damsel. The next four were the hardest yet, tearing into the girl, making her scream like a wild-woman. After completing these, he halted, turned to the crowd, and acknowledged their polite applause.

Rebecca was left a twitching and moaning thing, hanging from the frame. Her back was one big welt and blood oozed from numerous cuts. Mr. Fair announced, “In accord with the discretion allowed, the flogging is completed at this point. The Keeper may proceed with the remainder of the punishment.”

The crowd stirred back to life in anticipation of the next act. Spite and Toby went out a side door and returned pushing a brazier on wheels, filled with whitened coals. Out of these projected two iron handles. Owen handed Mr. Breaker thick leather gloves since even the handles were hot to the touch.

Toby and Jacks went to the frame and, directed by Spite, rotated it 180 degrees so that Rebecca now faced the audience. Grabbing both upper rails, they tilted it backward so that her upper body now leaned slightly backward, thrusting her chest up and forward.

Many in the audience, though already aroused, gasped at the sight. Rebecca’s naked, untouched front was incredibly alluring. Gazes drifted up from her shapely legs to her flaring hips and red triangle of pussy fur to her tiny waist and then to her pretty face surrounded by the halo of auburn hair. But all eyes ended focusing on her fine, round breasts, capped with rosy coral nipples. Her labored breathing caused these soft globes to shake temptingly. All knew that these would soon be the target of a hideous assault.

Rebecca had slipped into a semi-conscious state after about the twentieth stroke. Her head slumped on her chest and she moaned in pain. The pain and general damage caused by over two dozen blows of nine thongs each, had sapped her modest strength. Now, with the assault over, she was breathing shallowly, moaning, and trying, unsuccessfully, to shut out the pain. She had never, in her short life, imagined that she would ever bear such agony. Even the rapes and whipping at the Ball paled in comparison. She had slipped into her own world of agony, mostly oblivious to what went on around her.

Jacks went and picked up one of several buckets sitting to the side. Suddenly, a flood of cold water hit her face and chest. Coughing, sputtering, and blinking, she snapped to consciousness. It took a few moments for the water to drain from her eyes and for her to focus on her surroundings. Then she saw it approaching! An iron brand in the shape of the letter “V,” glowing a very pale red, held by the Keeper and coming ever closer!

Jacks came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, just under her breasts to keep her steady for the Keeper’s aim. Rebecca pleaded like a little child.

“Oh, Lord! Please! You bain’t my bryest! Please, Please! Isn’t bannocking enough? No. Please spare me! I canna abide it! I’m Sorry! I’ll be good! I vill! I canna bayer it! Please NO!”

Rebecca’s cries grew louder and more desperate as the cruel iron came closer and closer. Breaker knew to take it slowly to both terrify the girl and to titillate the onlookers. Eventually, however, the approach was completed and he laid the end against the side of the poor young woman’s left breast, the tip of the “V” just reaching the edge of the areola.


Tears filling her eyes and her throat raw and hoarse from crying, Rebecca saw the hot metal come closer and closer until her tit exploded in fiery pain that seemed to drill down into her soul. Blinding agony left her mad with pain and screaming her lungs out. She surged against the tight straps and thrashed as much as she could as the pain seemed to go on and on even after the brand was removed. Finally, exhausted, she sagged down with her head falling onto her chest. A moment later, another pail of water splashed in her face to rouse her for the second brand.

The audience had been struck dumb by the volume of the victim’s screams when the iron was applied. Her thrusting and surging body excited one and all with lustful thoughts. Lady Mary tightened her grip on Sir Elliott’s manhood so much that he groaned and grabbed her wrist. Realizing what she had done, she apologized. “I just couldn’t help myself, Sir Elliott. The visceral arousal of seeing the iron sear her tender titflesh was irresistible. I’m truly sorry if I hurt you. I promise you can punish me appropriately afterwards!”

“I understand, my Lady, and I shall! But don’t miss this. He’s aiming for her other pap now.”

Indeed, after Spite had thrown the water in her face a second time, Rebecca was again alert and begging as she saw the iron “T” coming for her soft, white flesh. Her left breast showed an angry red “V” against her pale skin. And now the right was about to suffer the same horrid fate. Her voice, now weak and hoarse, still cried for mercy.

Taking even more time than before, Breaker moved the burning iron close and finally laid it on the middle of her right tit, directly over the nipple. Somehow, the young woman managed a scream almost as loudly as the last.

After a minute when her cries weakened to pitiful moans, Mr. Fair stepped forward.


“The punishment ordered by the court is complete. In the morrow, Thursday, at 9AM, the slut shall be fixed at the cart’s tail and whipped to Tyburn. There she shall be hung. Please leave by the side doors. You may deposit any gratuities you wish to make for the Keeper and his performance with the men standing there.” He indicated two doors where Toby and Jacks were standing with their caps out.

Sir Elliott reluctantly tore himself from Lady Mary, rose and escorted his box seat guests to examine Rebecca close-up. The five, as well as Sir Elliott, probed her lashes and brands as well as stroking her belly and cunt. The damsel was almost impervious to their liberties except to groan in pain when they worried hurt flesh.

When they were finished, Grabbe bid them farewell and shepherded Lady Mary through a rear door to a private chamber. Before long, the impact of leather on skin could be heard as well as high-pitched cries.

Toby and Jacks turned over the moneys collected to Mr. Fine and let down Rebecca. She was taken back to the same holding cell nearby and unceremoniously dropped on the floor before the heavy door was closed and locked, leaving the groaning girl in the cold and dark.



Bain't – not, be not, Kentish
Bryest – breast, Kentish
Bannocking – thrashing, Kentish
Bayer – bear, Kentish

Wow! Thought there'd been a change in plans, that this whipping was in lieu of the whipping at the cart's tail. Now I see that happily, I was incorrect.
 
Chapter 44 Last Night

Rebecca lay, alone, naked, and cold, in agonizing pain in the dark on the hard, stone floor. She hadn’t the strength to get up nor the will to try. When she tried to force her mind off the terrible pain from her back and breasts, she thought of the morning, when she would hang. Though her mouth and throat were very dry, her eyes found moisture for tears and she sobbed bitterly.

During the next several hours, she passed between tortured consciousness and fevered nightmares. Suddenly the door opened and Keeper Breaker and Mistress Bly entered with a lantern to light the gloom. Rebecca, startled, huddled in the corner in fear, and squinted against the light through eyes red with weeping.

Allen there only to supervise and said nothing. Mistress Bly spoke kindly to the girl, though her usual cheerfulness was missing. She placed two bowls on the floor, one water and the other a thin gruel. She had the last of the ointments that Dr. Johnson had left after the rapes to promote healing. She tenderly applied what there was to the burns on Rebecca’s breasts. There wasn’t enough for her back. That she bathed softly with a damp cloth. It hurt and Rebecca cried, but she knew it was for the best.

When Bly finished, she kissed Rebecca on the head and left. Breaker said he would be back at dawn and turned to leave.

“Please, till Sir,” Rebecca croaked through chapped lips. “May I beg a boon? Would ye zend a message to me Mither an brothren an zostern? They must have a handful, worrying for me. Iten be a boon if someone whispered the deat to them ‘bout me.”

“I can’t do that. I have no idea where to find them, even if I wanted to.”

“But Sir Elliott must know. He’s been sending me earnings for the vork vith the clients to them.”

“Rebecca! You really be a country-put! We’re not wanting your family knowing about you. They might ask questions. And as for money, Sir Elliott hasn’t sent a wooden penny to your family. All your ‘earnings’ have gone to expenses and the Club’s profit. Lord, you are a stupid slut.” With that, he left and slammed the door, leaving Rebecca again in the pitch black.

She lifted a long high wail in the darkness, her last hope of any redemption for her suffering stolen away. She’d die unknown, unwanted, unacknowledged. Her family would sink deeper into poverty and wonder why Rebecca had abandoned them. All was lost. Despite Bly’s efforts, her wounds hurt more than she could bear.

After a long while sobbing, natural instincts asserted themselves and she drank the tepid water and sipped the thin gruel. With this slight sustenance, she struggled to find some relief in a better position, and, later, not much before dawn, slipped into a tortured sleep.


Till – gentle, Kentish
Mither – mother, Kentish
Brothren – brothers, Kentish
Zostern – sisters, Kentish
Handful – anxiety, Kentish
Iten – it would be, Kentish


Whispering the deat – It was the old custom, when the master or mistress died, where bees were kept, for someone to go to the hives and whisper to the bees, that the person is dead. The same custom was observed, in parts of Kent, with regard to cattle and sheep. It was extended to mean bringing the news to the family of a deceased who died away from home.
 
Chapter 44 Last Night

Rebecca lay, alone, naked, and cold, in agonizing pain in the dark on the hard, stone floor. She hadn’t the strength to get up nor the will to try. When she tried to force her mind off the terrible pain from her back and breasts, she thought of the morning, when she would hang. Though her mouth and throat were very dry, her eyes found moisture for tears and she sobbed bitterly.

During the next several hours, she passed between tortured consciousness and fevered nightmares. Suddenly the door opened and Keeper Breaker and Mistress Bly entered with a lantern to light the gloom. Rebecca, startled, huddled in the corner in fear, and squinted against the light through eyes red with weeping.

Allen there only to supervise and said nothing. Mistress Bly spoke kindly to the girl, though her usual cheerfulness was missing. She placed two bowls on the floor, one water and the other a thin gruel. She had the last of the ointments that Dr. Johnson had left after the rapes to promote healing. She tenderly applied what there was to the burns on Rebecca’s breasts. There wasn’t enough for her back. That she bathed softly with a damp cloth. It hurt and Rebecca cried, but she knew it was for the best.

When Bly finished, she kissed Rebecca on the head and left. Breaker said he would be back at dawn and turned to leave.

“Please, till Sir,” Rebecca croaked through chapped lips. “May I beg a boon? Would ye zend a message to me Mither an brothren an zostern? They must have a handful, worrying for me. Iten be a boon if someone whispered the deat to them ‘bout me.”

“I can’t do that. I have no idea where to find them, even if I wanted to.”

“But Sir Elliott must know. He’s been sending me earnings for the vork vith the clients to them.”

“Rebecca! You really be a country-put! We’re not wanting your family knowing about you. They might ask questions. And as for money, Sir Elliott hasn’t sent a wooden penny to your family. All your ‘earnings’ have gone to expenses and the Club’s profit. Lord, you are a stupid slut.” With that, he left and slammed the door, leaving Rebecca again in the pitch black.

She lifted a long high wail in the darkness, her last hope of any redemption for her suffering stolen away. She’d die unknown, unwanted, unacknowledged. Her family would sink deeper into poverty and wonder why Rebecca had abandoned them. All was lost. Despite Bly’s efforts, her wounds hurt more than she could bear.

After a long while sobbing, natural instincts asserted themselves and she drank the tepid water and sipped the thin gruel. With this slight sustenance, she struggled to find some relief in a better position, and, later, not much before dawn, slipped into a tortured sleep.


Till – gentle, Kentish
Mither – mother, Kentish
Brothren – brothers, Kentish
Zostern – sisters, Kentish
Handful – anxiety, Kentish
Iten – it would be, Kentish


Whispering the deat – It was the old custom, when the master or mistress died, where bees were kept, for someone to go to the hives and whisper to the bees, that the person is dead. The same custom was observed, in parts of Kent, with regard to cattle and sheep. It was extended to mean bringing the news to the family of a deceased who died away from home.
What a poignant, sad chapter this is, PrPr. The more I read of this story, the more convinced I become that this is the best piece of work by you that I have read.
 
Grammatical Aside (surely already known to @Eulalia)

As we move inexorably forward to the tearful termination at Tyburn, it is useful to explore the strange English associated with this form of capital punishment. The standard English past tense of hang is hung. However, when you are talking about intentionally killing by dangling people from a rope, it is hanged. This is the grammatical usage, but why are there two forms?

It comes from Old Norse hengja 'suspend' and hanga 'be suspended.' Separating the transitive and intransitive use of the verb. In Old Frisian there was hua 'suspend or hang,'

This separation resulted in two verbs in Old English from around 1000 CE: hon 'suspend' (transitive verb, past tense heng) and hangian, hongian 'be suspended' (intransitive verb, past tense hangode). In Middle English the words fused into the single hangen 'hang' (circa 1130 CE). However, in the sole use of execution by rope, the intransitive form prevailed with “hanged.”

It also lives on in the somewhat archaic idiom, “I’ll be hanged!”
 
“Rebecca! You really be a country-put! We’re not wanting your family knowing about you. They might ask questions. And as for money, Sir Elliott hasn’t sent a wooden penny to your family. All your ‘earnings’ have gone to expenses and the Club’s profit. Lord, you are a stupid slut.” With that, he left and slammed the door, leaving Rebecca again in the pitch black.

Knew it!!!!! :ARMS1:

See my earlier post

Saw that coming and I didn’t need to read any fine print ;)
 
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