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Mina Berkeley's Voyage

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speck and mote
Lovely choice of words, most appropriate for the time and place!
We will prevail. We will bring these people to justice. Whatever it takes! The world may be against us, but we have each other.”
A more serious version of what we often hear from Moore.

You have engineered a remarkable turn in the story. From the exploitation and abuse and suffering of the sisters (here and in Diocletian's story), hope is provided of release and recompense. One simply cannot help but continue to follow.
 
Another chapter of the Mina Berkeley saga:


LAURA’S BEDSIDE MANNER


Laura was a devoted nurse.

Through long days and nights she bathed Mina when Mina was feverish, and calmed her and caressed her and cooed to her when she was delirious. She spoon fed her cool water at all hours of the day and night when Mina was calm and conscious enough to swallow. She kept her wounds scrupulously clean and bandaged, cleaned her and her linens when she urinated or moved her bowels. She changed the linens as often as she needed, for she had mentioned the need to Mr. Flaywell, and he, well aware of Madame Louisa’s parsimony, spoke to Madame Louisa on the subject in no uncertain terms, and afterwards there had been no shortage of clean linen and towels.

Laura weaned herself off Laudanum, strictly limiting herself to the smallest dose that reduced the distracting craving for it, and realized, after an especially trying time, when Mina seemed near death, that she had gone an entire day without any. And from that moment on she turned away from it. Laura knew Madame Louisa left the bottle on the table in the chamber to tempt and torment her, and as a way of demonstrating to Laura her ever deepening spiral into shame as she cheated her own sister of her badly needed relief.

But in this Madam Louisa underestimated Laura’s resolve. The bottle, mocking Laura every time she glanced at it, only strengthened her determination to shake off her habit and devote herself to her sister.

Doctor Prentiss made frequent visits when Mina was at her worst. To Laura’s relief, he did not expect her to perform for him every time he visited, but then, within a few days of Mina improving, he did.

After examining Mina, Dr. Prentiss expressed his satisfaction with Laura’s care.

“I suppose it must be said that you are taking adequate care of your sister, Loretta,” he said.

He sat down on the chair and started unlacing his shoes. “Now suppose you take adequate care of me as well, as a way of thanking me for saving your sister’s life?”

With her mind less dulled by the Laudanum, for at the time she had not completely overcome her dependency, Laura felt a burst of defiance in her at the humiliating acts he expected her to perform. And in the presence of her sister! What if Mina were to awaken and look upon her sister’s humiliation and subservience? The thought was nearly unbearable! She felt a hot flush of anger and outrage.

But hard experience had taught her to bank her temper. “Loretta, you seem hesitant.” Dr. Prentiss said. “Come, I haven’t all day.”

She removed her shift and crawled on all fours to Doctor Prentiss. But instead of bowing to lick his feet, she leaned back on her haunches.

“Loretta, what is it?” Doctor Prentiss asked.

Laura hung her head. “Doctor,” she said, “It’s only that Mr. Flaywell has questioned me closely about the care of my sister. He asks me if Madame Louisa allows me to attend her, or if she puts me to other work, or if anyone else . . . is distracting me.”

Laura darted her eyes at the doctor. His face flushed with displeasure and what else?--a touch of alarm, perhaps fear?

“And what have you told him, Loretta?”

“I only told him about the linens, Doctor Prentiss, that I didn’t have enough to keep my sister clean. That is all I told him. I did not know if he would consider. . . what we do. . . a distraction. I fear him, Doctor Prentiss. I don’t think he is a nice man, like you. And he keeps asking me these questions, as though he doesn’t trust me to care for my own sister properly. I don’t know what he would do if he finds out about . . . us”

“Ha ha!” Dr. Prentiss laughed. “Put your mind at ease, Loretta, Mr. Flaywell and I understand each other.” As though an afterthought, Doctor Prentiss added, “But no need to mention our little game to him.” He patted Laura on the head. “I suppose I should be getting on. Other patients to see, you know. I shall check in again tomorrow.”

He put his shoes and hose back on and without another word left the chamber, and afterwards, bothered her no further.



Flaywell visited as well, but not as frequently, for the demands of preparing Smythie’s fleet to sail crowded all the hours of his day until at last the fleet weighed anchors and left the African coast, bound for New South Wales.

Of course Laura had not spoken to him about Doctor Prentiss; it didn’t occur to her that he would care what happened to her, as long as she did as she was bid. Nor indeed had Flaywell asked. To him, she was little more than a useful tool.

He seemed so cold and lifeless. Laura knew enough of men by now to be wary of him. She could sense that there was something not quite right about him, something dark. When he came he would have her leave the chamber.

Laura was loath to leave her sister with this man. The first time she had pleaded with him to be allowed to stay. She promised she would make no noise, but sit quietly in the corner, but Flaywell had regarded her with those cold eyes. He had responded to her distress with what was meant as reassurance. “No,” he said, “I shall not disturb your sister, I only wish to examine her,” and indicated the door with a firmness that brooked no further discussion.

Nonetheless, Laura had again nearly balked, but, as she had with Doctor Prentiss, reminded herself what her privileged righteousness and obstinacy had cost her. She knew she could not outmaneuver Flaywell, as she had Prentiss, and that to defy Flaywell meant, at the very least, to be separated from Mina.

She left the chamber without further demurral.



She did not know what Flaywell did with Mina when he was alone with her. She could imagine, but feared it was probably more disturbing than that. And yet when she was readmitted to the chamber, Flaywell appeared to have been as good as his word. Mina always seemed undisturbed, resting peacefully after Flaywell’s visits, and Laura could see no sign that Flaywell had abused her in any of the obvious ways.

“Are you feeding her?” Was all Flaywell had asked her. “She is becoming too thin. You must feed her.”

He seemed to accept her explanation that all Mina would take was water, and that only when she was calm. But he ordered Madame Louisa to prepare meat broths for Mina.

Laura concentrated on her one purpose, that of bringing her sister back to health. She did not know what the future held for either of them, nor did she waste time ruminating about it. But there was enough of that old righteousness and defiance that had reignited within her. But no longer for justice. Now she wanted vengeance.

Vengeance, first and foremost, for what they had done to her little sister.

Her old desire to improve the lot of the lower classes, or to obtain justice for herself, had fallen to a very distant, unremembered second.

The key was getting Mina strong again. She had faith that with Mina on her feet, and the two of them united in a common purpose, they would make those who had made them suffer pay. Laura did not know how they would bring that about, but she had heard things that perhaps could be put to use.



Men have a tendency to speak with unguarded tongues around whores. Laura had heard, or heard at second hand of the various schemes and plots of men who came and went in Cape Coast. Her mind had been too dull at the time to make use of such knowledge, but not so dull she could not now remember. She also knew there was unrest in the entire colony over the corrupt and unjust rule of the Governor and the Judge and their associates. She and Mina were not the only ones to suffer under their administration. She knew that Commodore Smythie and several of his captains were corrupt, and were smuggling women and slaves to America and the Caribbean. She knew Flaywell was involved in that scheme.

She knew that what had been done to her sister had provided the first spark of resistance, and that it was possible that the spark could become a flame.



Over the weeks that followed, Mina’s wounds slowly healed, the dangerous infections in her brands and in the wounds in her buttocks finally began to heal, leaving awful scars as a reminder of her ordeal. Slowly she emerged from her fever dreams and her delirium. Too weak to feed herself, nonetheless she began to have more of an appetite, and Laura fed her chicken broth and porridge, cooing to her and kissing her forehead.

All Mina remembered for days after she returned to consciousness was the dark angel who had protected her and the bright angel who had tended her like a mother bird does her chick. The bright angel she knew was her sister Laura. She could not think who the dark angel was.

For a time she did not remember what had brought her to such a pass, or why she was in pain. There were awful fleeting dreams that scudded like dark clouds across her memory, and as those clouds gathered she became more fearful. Now it was not the fever that made her cry out, but the dreams of awful suffering that would leave her wringing wet and gasping in horrified and panicked wakefulness.

And as Mina’s dreams became memories, Laura took to sleeping in the bed with her. She cuddled her and caressed her as Mina spoke of the things that had been done to her. When Mina was too weak to talk any longer, Laura would take over and sing lullabies.

It was the only way Mina could fall asleep, on her side with Laura spooning her, Laura’s body pressed tightly against her back in the narrow bed, Laura’s warm hands caressing the length of her, her warm breath trembling against the back of Mina’s neck, her soft voice whispering endearments or singing lullabies in her ear.

But Laura had been too long in this house learning the ways of the flesh. She had been forced to give pleasure without intimacy, to pretend passion she didn’t feel, to welcome love empty of any promise. And as Laura eased her sister into sleep, as she stroked her sister’s body, as she whispered to her and kissed her neck, her feelings became confused.

She had longed for an intimacy and love that had been denied her, indeed, held up as nothing but a mockery during her time at Madame Louisa’s. She had been subjected to unending abuse and humiliation, an object of contempt even to the other whores. She was after all, a member of the upper class, a beautiful and privileged young woman who had been handed all the advantages of life, and who had no doubt looked down on all of those she now found herself among. Such was the view of the occupants of the house, and they had treated Laura accordingly.

But now Laura could give comfort and even pleasure to someone she truly loved. And one night, almost without thought, following an urge that must have expression, she lifted Mina’s shift, and stroked her bare thigh. She nuzzled Mina’s neck and kissed her cheek, and Mina, half asleep, sighed in contentment and nestled herself more deeply against Laura. Laura smiled, caressing the length of Mina’s body from her shoulder to her thigh. A body that she knew better than her own by now. Mina was painfully thin, but her skin was still supple and soft, though marred in places by scars, but not nearly to the extent that Laura’s back had been. At last Laura left her hand on Mina’s hip, gently stroking the rounded crest with her thumb. She could feel Mina’s chest rise and fall as her body eased deeper into the comfort of sleep. Laura smiled, and slowly reached down and pulled the hem of Mina’s shift up to her hip. She paused as Mina twitched, and then, feeling Mina’s body relax again, she continued to stroke her bare hip. Mina sighed in contentment, for there is nothing more relaxing to a human body than the caring touch of another human.

Laura continued to caress Mina, drifting her hand up to trace the ridges of her ribs as well. Her hand brushed across Mina’s belly. The flesh was wonderfully warm and soft, and Laura felt herself becoming delightfully warm herself in response. Warm as toast, warm as a sunny summer day.

Her hand dipped lower, against the fringe of Mina’s pubis.

Mina swam up from her twilight sleep. “Laura?”

“It’s alright, Mina. Remember what they have done to us. We can only trust each other. We can only care for each other. We can only love each other. Let me give you pleasure.”

“Laura, no.”

“We need feel no shame, not any more. They have stripped us of shame. They have shamed themselves. But we shall repay them. Let us think no more of them. Let me give you pleasure.”

It was true, Mina thought. Her mind was hazy with sleep and weariness, but she fully remembered how she and her sister had suffered. We have only each other to rely on. We have only each other to trust. To love.

What Laura offered was wrong. And in a time past Mina would never have considered it, much less accepted it. Neither of them. But Laura was right. They had been stripped of shame. No, freed of shame.

What would the future bring? Better not to think about it.

Mina put her hand over her sister’s. She entwined their fingers and gave Laura’s hand a weak squeeze. Then slowly Mina moved her sister’s hand down against her, Mina’s sex, and opened her legs.

“We only have each other to love,” Mina whispered.

Laura’s hand dipped lower against Mina’s pubic mound, gently tousling her pubic hair and then teasing Mina’s outer labia, stroking a finger up and down, easing open the folds of skin, tracing the inner length of the wonderfully silken flesh.

“Oh,” Mina sighed. “Laura.”

Laura’s questing finger explored the delicate threshold of Mina’s most inner sanctum, stroking the silken entryway, and then entered.

Laura kissed Mina on the neck, nuzzling her, whispering to her. And Mina responded, sighing deeply, her breath warm against her pillow, pressing Laura’s hand more firmly against her mound. Laura did not intrude too deeply, but instead pulled her finger back, her finger now lubricated with Mina’s desire, and eased open the hood of flesh covering Mina’s clitoris. She stroked a magic circle around the button, and then let the very tip of her finger rest on the tip of the nubbin of exquisitely sensitive flesh.

Mina gasped. And bore Laura’s hand down harder. Laura began rubbing her finger over the little button slowly at first, and then, as Mina’s body responded, with ever greater vigor and force.

At last Mina gasped out her pleasure, and held Laura’s hand in a grip whose strength neither of them suspected she still possessed. Mina ground her pubis against Laura’s hand, until grunting, she trembled in pleasure, and then relaxed, exhausted.

Laura pulled the shift back down over Mina’s thighs. “You are recovering nicely, Mina,” Laura whispered. “Soon you will be strong again. Now sleep little sister. I don’t think you’ll need you’re Laudanum tonight,” she teased. “Perhaps never again.”

“Laura,” Mina said. “We must never do that again. We must ask forgiveness of God.”

“Mina,” Laura said, “There is nothing to forgive. We have only each other to love.”



In the parlor above, Madame Louisa welcomed a group of randy young naval officers from a squadron of ships that had recently anchored in the bight. Such was the story at Madame Louisa’s. One fleet sailed, another anchored. Madame Louisa’s was rarely becalmed for long.

She flirted with the young men, teasing them and offering up her well worn double entendres while offering them drinks and encouraging them to make their selections, mentally weighing their purses as she did so.

She recognized another young man stepping up to the porch.

She did not like this young man, for he was truculent and vindictive and could be rough with the girls, especially when he was in his cups. He was the sort of man who envied and resented the attainments of others while believing that his own far superior gifts went unrecognized.

Still, he had performed his part admirably at the flogging of Laura Berkeley. It was quite obvious to all who had witnessed it, as Madame Louisa had from the shore, that he quite enjoyed the duty.

What was his name? Uncharacteristically for her, his name had slipped Madame Louisa’s memory. And he had been a regular customer. The name was something common. Something with an H.

“You must find yourself one of our girls, Lieutenant,” Madame Louisa said, jesting with him, “And right quick, lest I have you whipped for vagrancy!”

“Ha!” the Lieutenant said, “You remember my little jest, do you, Madame?”

“Who could forget, sir?” Madame Louisa said, her eyes lighting at the memory. “Having just returned from escorting that slender young thing, Laura Berkeley, for her flogging round the fleet, you threatened to have her whipped for vagrancy if she did not move from the beach! You are a delightfully cruel and wicked man, Lieutenant! I hope you shall not treat my girls in such a manner.”

The man grimaced at her, his eyes impatiently roaming the parlor to pick out a desirable partner. “Your whores are too fat, Madame,” He said. “I like ‘em thin.”

Madame Louisa paused, considering a delightful, if risky, prospect. And suddenly she remembered his name. It was a sign.

“I may have just the girl for you, Lieutenant Hudson,” she said.
 
Another chapter of the Mina Berkeley saga:


LAURA’S BEDSIDE MANNER


Laura was a devoted nurse.

Through long days and nights she bathed Mina when Mina was feverish, and calmed her and caressed her and cooed to her when she was delirious. She spoon fed her cool water at all hours of the day and night when Mina was calm and conscious enough to swallow. She kept her wounds scrupulously clean and bandaged, cleaned her and her linens when she urinated or moved her bowels. She changed the linens as often as she needed, for she had mentioned the need to Mr. Flaywell, and he, well aware of Madame Louisa’s parsimony, spoke to Madame Louisa on the subject in no uncertain terms, and afterwards there had been no shortage of clean linen and towels.

Laura weaned herself off Laudanum, strictly limiting herself to the smallest dose that reduced the distracting craving for it, and realized, after an especially trying time, when Mina seemed near death, that she had gone an entire day without any. And from that moment on she turned away from it. Laura knew Madame Louisa left the bottle on the table in the chamber to tempt and torment her, and as a way of demonstrating to Laura her ever deepening spiral into shame as she cheated her own sister of her badly needed relief.

But in this Madam Louisa underestimated Laura’s resolve. The bottle, mocking Laura every time she glanced at it, only strengthened her determination to shake off her habit and devote herself to her sister.

Doctor Prentiss made frequent visits when Mina was at her worst. To Laura’s relief, he did not expect her to perform for him every time he visited, but then, within a few days of Mina improving, he did.

After examining Mina, Dr. Prentiss expressed his satisfaction with Laura’s care.

“I suppose it must be said that you are taking adequate care of your sister, Loretta,” he said.

He sat down on the chair and started unlacing his shoes. “Now suppose you take adequate care of me as well, as a way of thanking me for saving your sister’s life?”

With her mind less dulled by the Laudanum, for at the time she had not completely overcome her dependency, Laura felt a burst of defiance in her at the humiliating acts he expected her to perform. And in the presence of her sister! What if Mina were to awaken and look upon her sister’s humiliation and subservience? The thought was nearly unbearable! She felt a hot flush of anger and outrage.

But hard experience had taught her to bank her temper. “Loretta, you seem hesitant.” Dr. Prentiss said. “Come, I haven’t all day.”

She removed her shift and crawled on all fours to Doctor Prentiss. But instead of bowing to lick his feet, she leaned back on her haunches.

“Loretta, what is it?” Doctor Prentiss asked.

Laura hung her head. “Doctor,” she said, “It’s only that Mr. Flaywell has questioned me closely about the care of my sister. He asks me if Madame Louisa allows me to attend her, or if she puts me to other work, or if anyone else . . . is distracting me.”

Laura darted her eyes at the doctor. His face flushed with displeasure and what else?--a touch of alarm, perhaps fear?

“And what have you told him, Loretta?”

“I only told him about the linens, Doctor Prentiss, that I didn’t have enough to keep my sister clean. That is all I told him. I did not know if he would consider. . . what we do. . . a distraction. I fear him, Doctor Prentiss. I don’t think he is a nice man, like you. And he keeps asking me these questions, as though he doesn’t trust me to care for my own sister properly. I don’t know what he would do if he finds out about . . . us”

“Ha ha!” Dr. Prentiss laughed. “Put your mind at ease, Loretta, Mr. Flaywell and I understand each other.” As though an afterthought, Doctor Prentiss added, “But no need to mention our little game to him.” He patted Laura on the head. “I suppose I should be getting on. Other patients to see, you know. I shall check in again tomorrow.”

He put his shoes and hose back on and without another word left the chamber, and afterwards, bothered her no further.



Flaywell visited as well, but not as frequently, for the demands of preparing Smythie’s fleet to sail crowded all the hours of his day until at last the fleet weighed anchors and left the African coast, bound for New South Wales.

Of course Laura had not spoken to him about Doctor Prentiss; it didn’t occur to her that he would care what happened to her, as long as she did as she was bid. Nor indeed had Flaywell asked. To him, she was little more than a useful tool.

He seemed so cold and lifeless. Laura knew enough of men by now to be wary of him. She could sense that there was something not quite right about him, something dark. When he came he would have her leave the chamber.

Laura was loath to leave her sister with this man. The first time she had pleaded with him to be allowed to stay. She promised she would make no noise, but sit quietly in the corner, but Flaywell had regarded her with those cold eyes. He had responded to her distress with what was meant as reassurance. “No,” he said, “I shall not disturb your sister, I only wish to examine her,” and indicated the door with a firmness that brooked no further discussion.

Nonetheless, Laura had again nearly balked, but, as she had with Doctor Prentiss, reminded herself what her privileged righteousness and obstinacy had cost her. She knew she could not outmaneuver Flaywell, as she had Prentiss, and that to defy Flaywell meant, at the very least, to be separated from Mina.

She left the chamber without further demurral.



She did not know what Flaywell did with Mina when he was alone with her. She could imagine, but feared it was probably more disturbing than that. And yet when she was readmitted to the chamber, Flaywell appeared to have been as good as his word. Mina always seemed undisturbed, resting peacefully after Flaywell’s visits, and Laura could see no sign that Flaywell had abused her in any of the obvious ways.

“Are you feeding her?” Was all Flaywell had asked her. “She is becoming too thin. You must feed her.”

He seemed to accept her explanation that all Mina would take was water, and that only when she was calm. But he ordered Madame Louisa to prepare meat broths for Mina.

Laura concentrated on her one purpose, that of bringing her sister back to health. She did not know what the future held for either of them, nor did she waste time ruminating about it. But there was enough of that old righteousness and defiance that had reignited within her. But no longer for justice. Now she wanted vengeance.

Vengeance, first and foremost, for what they had done to her little sister.

Her old desire to improve the lot of the lower classes, or to obtain justice for herself, had fallen to a very distant, unremembered second.

The key was getting Mina strong again. She had faith that with Mina on her feet, and the two of them united in a common purpose, they would make those who had made them suffer pay. Laura did not know how they would bring that about, but she had heard things that perhaps could be put to use.



Men have a tendency to speak with unguarded tongues around whores. Laura had heard, or heard at second hand of the various schemes and plots of men who came and went in Cape Coast. Her mind had been too dull at the time to make use of such knowledge, but not so dull she could not now remember. She also knew there was unrest in the entire colony over the corrupt and unjust rule of the Governor and the Judge and their associates. She and Mina were not the only ones to suffer under their administration. She knew that Commodore Smythie and several of his captains were corrupt, and were smuggling women and slaves to America and the Caribbean. She knew Flaywell was involved in that scheme.

She knew that what had been done to her sister had provided the first spark of resistance, and that it was possible that the spark could become a flame.



Over the weeks that followed, Mina’s wounds slowly healed, the dangerous infections in her brands and in the wounds in her buttocks finally began to heal, leaving awful scars as a reminder of her ordeal. Slowly she emerged from her fever dreams and her delirium. Too weak to feed herself, nonetheless she began to have more of an appetite, and Laura fed her chicken broth and porridge, cooing to her and kissing her forehead.

All Mina remembered for days after she returned to consciousness was the dark angel who had protected her and the bright angel who had tended her like a mother bird does her chick. The bright angel she knew was her sister Laura. She could not think who the dark angel was.

For a time she did not remember what had brought her to such a pass, or why she was in pain. There were awful fleeting dreams that scudded like dark clouds across her memory, and as those clouds gathered she became more fearful. Now it was not the fever that made her cry out, but the dreams of awful suffering that would leave her wringing wet and gasping in horrified and panicked wakefulness.

And as Mina’s dreams became memories, Laura took to sleeping in the bed with her. She cuddled her and caressed her as Mina spoke of the things that had been done to her. When Mina was too weak to talk any longer, Laura would take over and sing lullabies.

It was the only way Mina could fall asleep, on her side with Laura spooning her, Laura’s body pressed tightly against her back in the narrow bed, Laura’s warm hands caressing the length of her, her warm breath trembling against the back of Mina’s neck, her soft voice whispering endearments or singing lullabies in her ear.

But Laura had been too long in this house learning the ways of the flesh. She had been forced to give pleasure without intimacy, to pretend passion she didn’t feel, to welcome love empty of any promise. And as Laura eased her sister into sleep, as she stroked her sister’s body, as she whispered to her and kissed her neck, her feelings became confused.

She had longed for an intimacy and love that had been denied her, indeed, held up as nothing but a mockery during her time at Madame Louisa’s. She had been subjected to unending abuse and humiliation, an object of contempt even to the other whores. She was after all, a member of the upper class, a beautiful and privileged young woman who had been handed all the advantages of life, and who had no doubt looked down on all of those she now found herself among. Such was the view of the occupants of the house, and they had treated Laura accordingly.

But now Laura could give comfort and even pleasure to someone she truly loved. And one night, almost without thought, following an urge that must have expression, she lifted Mina’s shift, and stroked her bare thigh. She nuzzled Mina’s neck and kissed her cheek, and Mina, half asleep, sighed in contentment and nestled herself more deeply against Laura. Laura smiled, caressing the length of Mina’s body from her shoulder to her thigh. A body that she knew better than her own by now. Mina was painfully thin, but her skin was still supple and soft, though marred in places by scars, but not nearly to the extent that Laura’s back had been. At last Laura left her hand on Mina’s hip, gently stroking the rounded crest with her thumb. She could feel Mina’s chest rise and fall as her body eased deeper into the comfort of sleep. Laura smiled, and slowly reached down and pulled the hem of Mina’s shift up to her hip. She paused as Mina twitched, and then, feeling Mina’s body relax again, she continued to stroke her bare hip. Mina sighed in contentment, for there is nothing more relaxing to a human body than the caring touch of another human.

Laura continued to caress Mina, drifting her hand up to trace the ridges of her ribs as well. Her hand brushed across Mina’s belly. The flesh was wonderfully warm and soft, and Laura felt herself becoming delightfully warm herself in response. Warm as toast, warm as a sunny summer day.

Her hand dipped lower, against the fringe of Mina’s pubis.

Mina swam up from her twilight sleep. “Laura?”

“It’s alright, Mina. Remember what they have done to us. We can only trust each other. We can only care for each other. We can only love each other. Let me give you pleasure.”

“Laura, no.”

“We need feel no shame, not any more. They have stripped us of shame. They have shamed themselves. But we shall repay them. Let us think no more of them. Let me give you pleasure.”

It was true, Mina thought. Her mind was hazy with sleep and weariness, but she fully remembered how she and her sister had suffered. We have only each other to rely on. We have only each other to trust. To love.

What Laura offered was wrong. And in a time past Mina would never have considered it, much less accepted it. Neither of them. But Laura was right. They had been stripped of shame. No, freed of shame.

What would the future bring? Better not to think about it.

Mina put her hand over her sister’s. She entwined their fingers and gave Laura’s hand a weak squeeze. Then slowly Mina moved her sister’s hand down against her, Mina’s sex, and opened her legs.

“We only have each other to love,” Mina whispered.

Laura’s hand dipped lower against Mina’s pubic mound, gently tousling her pubic hair and then teasing Mina’s outer labia, stroking a finger up and down, easing open the folds of skin, tracing the inner length of the wonderfully silken flesh.

“Oh,” Mina sighed. “Laura.”

Laura’s questing finger explored the delicate threshold of Mina’s most inner sanctum, stroking the silken entryway, and then entered.

Laura kissed Mina on the neck, nuzzling her, whispering to her. And Mina responded, sighing deeply, her breath warm against her pillow, pressing Laura’s hand more firmly against her mound. Laura did not intrude too deeply, but instead pulled her finger back, her finger now lubricated with Mina’s desire, and eased open the hood of flesh covering Mina’s clitoris. She stroked a magic circle around the button, and then let the very tip of her finger rest on the tip of the nubbin of exquisitely sensitive flesh.

Mina gasped. And bore Laura’s hand down harder. Laura began rubbing her finger over the little button slowly at first, and then, as Mina’s body responded, with ever greater vigor and force.

At last Mina gasped out her pleasure, and held Laura’s hand in a grip whose strength neither of them suspected she still possessed. Mina ground her pubis against Laura’s hand, until grunting, she trembled in pleasure, and then relaxed, exhausted.

Laura pulled the shift back down over Mina’s thighs. “You are recovering nicely, Mina,” Laura whispered. “Soon you will be strong again. Now sleep little sister. I don’t think you’ll need you’re Laudanum tonight,” she teased. “Perhaps never again.”

“Laura,” Mina said. “We must never do that again. We must ask forgiveness of God.”

“Mina,” Laura said, “There is nothing to forgive. We have only each other to love.”



In the parlor above, Madame Louisa welcomed a group of randy young naval officers from a squadron of ships that had recently anchored in the bight. Such was the story at Madame Louisa’s. One fleet sailed, another anchored. Madame Louisa’s was rarely becalmed for long.

She flirted with the young men, teasing them and offering up her well worn double entendres while offering them drinks and encouraging them to make their selections, mentally weighing their purses as she did so.

She recognized another young man stepping up to the porch.

She did not like this young man, for he was truculent and vindictive and could be rough with the girls, especially when he was in his cups. He was the sort of man who envied and resented the attainments of others while believing that his own far superior gifts went unrecognized.

Still, he had performed his part admirably at the flogging of Laura Berkeley. It was quite obvious to all who had witnessed it, as Madame Louisa had from the shore, that he quite enjoyed the duty.

What was his name? Uncharacteristically for her, his name had slipped Madame Louisa’s memory. And he had been a regular customer. The name was something common. Something with an H.

“You must find yourself one of our girls, Lieutenant,” Madame Louisa said, jesting with him, “And right quick, lest I have you whipped for vagrancy!”

“Ha!” the Lieutenant said, “You remember my little jest, do you, Madame?”

“Who could forget, sir?” Madame Louisa said, her eyes lighting at the memory. “Having just returned from escorting that slender young thing, Laura Berkeley, for her flogging round the fleet, you threatened to have her whipped for vagrancy if she did not move from the beach! You are a delightfully cruel and wicked man, Lieutenant! I hope you shall not treat my girls in such a manner.”

The man grimaced at her, his eyes impatiently roaming the parlor to pick out a desirable partner. “Your whores are too fat, Madame,” He said. “I like ‘em thin.”

Madame Louisa paused, considering a delightful, if risky, prospect. And suddenly she remembered his name. It was a sign.

“I may have just the girl for you, Lieutenant Hudson,” she said.
What a great read, and the reference to Laura's 'whipping around the fleet' towards the end of the piece was a timely reminder of the true nature of the total vengeance sought by the Berkeley sisters! As for the sisterly sexual interlude, that was a most erotic piece of writing. But now we have the return of Lieutenant Hudson - will this be a an opportunity to begin the road to revenge or just an occasion for further humiliation and punishment to be inflicted? I am waiting eagerly to find out!
 
OUT OF THE FRYING PAN (cont.)

The girl grudgingly obeyed. She was slender, and seemed, unlike the others, quite downcast. She looked up at Flaywell with a quick, shamed glance. Her face seemed oddly familiar to Flaywell.

The man opened her labia with his fingers and peered intently at her genitalia.

“Doctor Prentiss, I hate to interrupt you, but there’s a gentleman here I’d like you to meet.”

“One moment,” the man said. He continued peering at the woman’s exposed vulva. He inspected her labia majora and minora most carefully, then thumbed open the hood of her clitoris. The woman gasped and jerked.

“Hold still, girl!” the doctor said. He leaned forward and sniffed her sex.

Apparently satisfied, the doctor stood and turned to face Madame Louisa and Flaywell. He was dressed in a good quality pressed shirt and well fitting waistcoat and trousers, and had carefully groomed mustachios and chin beard. His eyes took stock of Flaywell behind the spectacles that magnified them.

Madame Louisa made the introductions.

Doctor Prentiss wiped his hands on a handkerchief, and began to extend it, but thought better of it. “No offense, Mr. Flaywell, perhaps you’d rather I’d not shake your hand,” he said with a smile.

“Doctor Prentiss is kind enough to inspect the girls once a week,” Madame Louisa said. “We have a reputation for the cleanest and most handsome girls in Cape Coast. And I am mindful I have the Commodore to thank for that.”

“Ah, you are acquainted with the Commodore, then, Mr. Flaywell?” Doctor Prentiss asked.

“I am his personal secretary, sir,” Flaywell said.

“Good man, good man!” the Doctor said, and dismissed him from further consideration. “Madame Louisa, I regret to say I did find a chancre on one girl, Sally. I have seen no other chancres, sores or rashes either upon the other girls’ privities or upon their gums or lips. No rashes on their feet or palms. No loose teeth.”

“Well then Doctor Prentiss,” Madame Louisa said. “Will it be the usual course for Sally?”

The doctor nodded.

“Indeed, yes. Mercurous chloride, first with pills, and then, if that is ineffective, with inunctations. I may include a regimen of sweating as well. And we shall hope for the best. But need I remind you that a good deal of the efficacy seems to depend upon the constitution of the sufferer. We may expect to see further deterioration of her general condition in the near term, but hopefully Sally will recover and show no further symptoms, otherwise. . .”

“Otherwise, I shall be forced to turn her out,” Madame Louisa said. “I keep a clean house, Mr. Flaywell,”

“I shall accept my usual payment for my services, Madame, if I may.” He nodded to Flaywell. “Mr. Flaywell, a pleasure, sir. My compliments to the Commodore.” Turning back to the line of girls he said to the slender, downcast one, “Come, Loretta.”

“Excuse me, Doctor,” Flaywell said. “Is that Laura Berkeley?”

The doctor looked to Madame Louisa and then to Flaywell. “Indeed it is, sir. We call her Loretta here, but yes, Laura Berkeley is her given name. You have heard the story, no doubt? Did you witness her punishment?”

“I was aboard ship with the Commodore, sailing here, as a matter of fact. I did not hear of it until after we arrived.”

“Ah!” the doctor exclaimed. “Perhaps you know her sister, Wilhelmina, who, I believe must have sailed with you, and who has also fallen afoul of the law!”

“That is correct, sir,” Flaywell said. “I do know her. In fact . . .”

“I saw her punishment as well! Wouldn’t have missed it! But . . .”

Doctor Prentiss told Laura to turn her back to Flaywell. He lifted her chemise off her shoulders and let it drop the length of her body, exposing her from head to heels.

“. . . I’ll wager her sister has no marks like this!”

Flaywell saw that Laura’s back was nothing but scar tissue, an undifferentiated mass of ridges and wrinkles, like a thick cloth that had been cut to shreds and sewn carelessly, all rumpled up, back together.

If Flaywell had not known better, he might have thought she had been burned in a terrible fire, but then he noticed the parallel lines of faint scars along her ribs as well. They were the distinctive marks of the cat o’nine tails. He’d seen many whippings in his time, and their results, but he’d never seen such a mess as this.

Flaywell was fascinated. He could see no art in it, no beauty at all, it was just a waste; a savage, wanton destruction of what must have been a lovely expanse of epidermis.

But what an addition it would make to his collection! Even if only as a curiosity. Part of a matched set!

Madame Louisa cast a professional eye toward the region of Flaywell’s groin, for she had noticed the twitching and slight tenting of his breeches in that area. She smiled to herself. She had suspected he was an odd duck, but perhaps not so odd after all.

“I have a proposition for you, sir,” Flaywell said to the doctor.



From Madame Louisa’s, Flaywell drove his buggy to Government House. Doctor Prentiss was with him. He intended to retrieve Mina from the holding cell. He was concerned that they would not allow him entry, for certainly the body of the warden would’ve been discovered by now. But he was prepared to go to Judge Higgens if forestalled, and he thought having the doctor along would add weight to his claim.

To his surprise however, he discovered that activity seemed to be concentrated around the back steps of the building.

Judge Higgens was among the men, giving instructions and offering opinions with his usual asperity. But when the judge saw Doctor Prentiss, he broke off.

“Doctor Prentiss, good to see a man of sense about.” The judge said, barely acknowledging Flaywell with a nod. “Have you come to inspect his prisoner?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” the Doctor said, “And Mr. Flaywell would like to remove her from her cell.”

“Well, sir, you have her indenture, do you not?” the judge replied, turning to Flaywell. “Then take her to Timbuktu, if you like, she is out of my hands! And good day to you!” He turned again to Doctor Prentiss. “Doctor, I hope we shall enjoy your company again at one of our gatherings. I would stay longer to talk but we’ve had a most inconvenient incident occur. Our warden was found at the bottom of these stairs, dead. These idiots seem to want to make something of it, but personally I think the drunken fool must simply have stumbled and fell. Now I shall have to hire another.”



Flaywell was dismayed when he saw Mina’s condition. It had worsened through the night. She looked feverish and was only semi-conscious, and was groaning and tossing in the bed. The Doctor had Mina bundled up and together Flaywell and he placed her in the back of the covered buggy. Flaywell drove a roundabout way to Madame Louisa’s. He signaled to the doorman, who had been told to expect him, and then drove around to the cellar entrance, where the Madame and the slender figure of Laura Berkeley, huddling behind her, waited at the door.

Laura had broken out in a sweat after the two men had left, when Madame Louisa pointed a finger at her and said, “Come with me, now, Princess. You’re going to the cellar.”
Jon, I don't know how I overlooked this delightful episode back in Nov. I can only plead the sparsity of your postings as a lame excuse for my unforgivable negligence.
But now I have read it and enjoyed your sound writing and impeccable pacing once again. A fine job!
Flaywell was fascinated. He could see no art in it, no beauty at all, it was just a waste; a savage, wanton destruction of what must have been a lovely expanse of epidermis.
That mirrors my response exactly. Though I was suitably aroused in Diocletian's original story, the permanent reallife marks (that you so exquisitely describe) leave me totally cold and regretful of the waste of her beauty.
 
Warm as toast, warm as a sunny summer day.
Absolutely marvelous image!:clapping:
“I may have just the girl for you, Lieutenant Hudson,” she said.
The devil returns! :eek:

The long waits for new material may indeed be frustrating, but the results, when posted, more than makeup for the anticipation. Fine Episode!
 
What a great read, and the reference to Laura's 'whipping around the fleet' towards the end of the piece was a timely reminder of the true nature of the total vengeance sought by the Berkeley sisters! As for the sisterly sexual interlude, that was a most erotic piece of writing. But now we have the return of Lieutenant Hudson - will this be a an opportunity to begin the road to revenge or just an occasion for further humiliation and punishment to be inflicted? I am waiting eagerly to find out!
I agree! This chapter was chilling and incredibly erotic! I love how he reminds us of Laura’s flogging round the fleet and how brutal that was. Excited to see how this Hudson reveal turns out for the girls.
 
Another chapter of the saga. One brief note--I've substituted the American word "ass" for the more British "arse," because, well it just sounds more British-y. And after all, all we Americans have to do to sound British is drop our "R's," except, of course, in the word "arse." Which makes you think "ass" should be more British, but--oh, the hell with it. Enjoy!


MAY AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT




Madame Louisa felt elated at her own rashness.

But what if Lt. Hudson chose to brag about his encounter with Loretta, and in so doing, word reached Flaywell? Or what if Loretta told him? She knew Flaywell better than most living, and had reason to fear him. But she also had more than enough reason to spite him. How many times had he regarded her with those dead eyes, as though she were less than human, and reached out his hand for a cut of her hard earned money?

But putting his hands on her? Threatening her? Over that Mina Berkeley slut? Did he believe she was some dockyard doxie he could treat with impunity?

As for both the Berkeley strumpets, they had caused her more than enough trouble. She could not bedevil them enough to suit her. She was confident that she had Loretta well under her thumb. She could just threaten to cut off her laudanum, or give her another beating!

The risk was not only with Flaywell and Loretta. The unrest in Cape Coast had been ruthlessly put down by the Governor’s edicts and strong arm tactics following the riot—summary whippings and even hanging for those who disturbed the public peace or agitated against the administration. A curfew had only recently been lifted. It was possible that any spark might inflame the tinder, and she wanted neither of the Berkeley sisters to provide that spark.

But it was a risk eminently worth taking—what an opportunity had walked through her door! How could she not permit the one man living who Laura Berkeley must dread and fear most in the world to make her acquaintance once again? Had she advanced to where she was in life by not taking risks, or by passing up opportunities to get even? All she had to do was concoct a convincing story that would seal his lips. And that was a craft she had mastered long since.

Madame Louisa looped her arm through Lt. Hudson’s and walked him down the hall and into her office. She closed the door behind them, after glancing to make sure no one had taken note.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lt. Hudson asked, offended at the woman’s familiarity. “Is this whore some sort of foreign agent? If you are trying to intrigue me into paying more money for her, I warn you, it won’t work.”

Madame Louisa looked up into the Lieutenant’s suspicious, resentful eyes and gave him her most disarming smile. She giggled in an attempt at girlish charm.

“Lt. Hudson,” she said, “Allow me to explain. I have the perfect young woman in mind for you. No, she is not a foreign agent, silly man!” She laughed gaily, as though delighted by his wit. “However, her position in my establishment is a bit delicate at this moment. She is one of my girls, but she is caring for another, an indentured servant, and the admiral who owns her indenture. . .” Here Madame Louisa paused, gave her head a slight shake and smiled ruefully at her slip of the tongue before she continued, “Forgive me Lieutenant, I spoke too freely. Let us just say that her master, never mind his rank, is holding her here temporarily, while she recovers,” She winked conspiratorially at Hudson.

“What? Is she contagious?” the lieutenant asked.

Madame Louisa laughed again. “She suffers from the same disease that another young woman, Laura Berkeley, suffered from. A disease that could only be cured with the lash.”

In spite of himself, Hudson nodded approvingly. “Ah, yes.”

Madame Louisa smiled at her own daring.

She continued, “He would be angry indeed if he discovered that I had allowed another gentleman to have access to her, even so worthy a one as yourself. And especially if word got out about his arrangements. So you see, Lieutenant, I’ve been a naughty girl to even mention it. If you choose to go forward, you must promise me your complete discretion.”

Lt. Hudson narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He well knew that most people tried to put something over on him or stab him in the back, but he’d learned to do it to them first. No one played Lt. Hudson for a fool! He had heard many a whore tell many a tale, and in the end, it was all about making more money for themselves, or to make a fool of him.

But a whore was a whore after all. Even if the slut Madame Louisa was trying to sell him was a bill of goods, it might just be worth his trouble to look her over; after all, if any part of Madame Louisa’s story was true, and he could discover who this admiral was, then that information could possibly be turned to account.

“I understand, Madame, and I assure you of my complete discretion. Now, what are your terms?”

“Lt. Hudson,” Madame Louisa said, “I don’t believe I could trust anyone else with this knowledge. But you sir have always struck me as a trustworthy officer, a man others may rely on. I can assure you, Lieutenant, it will be well worth your money. My price may seem dear to you, but I believe that you of all men would have the discrimination to consider the circumstances. . .”

“Do not try my patience! Your terms.”

Madame Louisa named the price. The Lieutenant coughed and spluttered in disbelief.

“You must be joking, woman!” He said. “No whore on God’s green earth or upon the seven seas has ever been worth so dear a price!”

“Lieutenant, I quite understand your astonishment. All I ask is that you look upon this girl, and then decide if she is indeed worth the money. I’ll wager that once you see her, you will agree that my price is more than fair, and that you would gladly pay half again as much for an hour to have your way with her.”

Hudson scoffed at this statement and waved it impatiently away. “A pearl of great price, is she? Nonsense! Understand that I shall pay nothing if this whore is not as you say. I agree to take a look at her. That is all.”

There were too many customers and girls about for Madame Louisa to feel comfortable with showing Lt. Hudson directly into the basement through the trap door in the kitchen. Rather, she had him leave by the front door of the house, to go around to the outside basement access. When she saw that the coast was clear, she stole into the kitchen and climbed down the interior steps that led to the basement to give him entry.

The area under the house had been extensively excavated. It had originally been a root cellar, but had been expanded and improved upon over the years when smugglers and slavers had occupied the house. It had even been floored with brick and mortar. It now provided room for the activities of a particular group of gentlemen who could afford to indulge their every whim.

Madame Louisa had brought two lanterns, one for her and one for the Lieutenant, for very little natural light penetrated the basement. As well, the thick walls and thick oak flooring of the ground floor above rendered it essentially soundproof. She unlocked the basement door that led to a protected entry outside, and bid Lt. Hudson enter.

As Madame Louisa led Hudson through the basement, he was surprised by the extent of the place. It was difficult for him to distinguish the furniture and appointments therein, for it was quite dark. As the lantern light cast a passing glow on the furniture and devices arrayed in the room, Hudson realized that this was far more than a root cellar or coal room. It was more like a dungeon.

“Come along, if you please, Lieutenant,” Madame Louisa said, as Hudson paused to get a better glimpse of what the room had to offer.

“I was not aware of this,” Hudson said. “I should like to bring a whore down here.”

“This room is ordinarily for the use of a private group of gentlemen, Lt. Hudson, whose names I cannot mention, but only to say that many would be known to you. The officer who owns the indenture of the young lady you will meet, or should I say, be reacquainted with, attends here as often as he is able. Membership is by invitation only, Lieutenant. However I am quite sure that a man of your parts and ambition may well find himself in possession of an invitation in due course. They have an eye for such men as you, Lieutenant, men with ability and discretion. It is very wicked of me to tell you this, sir, but your name is not unknown to them either. I have heard it mentioned with favor within these walls.”

Madame Louisa was quite pleased with herself. She could see the young fool was eating it out of her hand. She had just given him another reason to keep this under his vest. She was satisfied now that he would not blab about who was down here.

“Ah,” Hudson nodded, flattered and pleased to his bones that perhaps his abilities were being recognized after all by those who mattered. He savored Madame Louisa’s information for a long moment when something occurred to him.

“You say ‘reacquaint,’ Madame,’ Hudson said. “I know this whore, do I?”

“You shall see, Lieutenant,” Madame Louisa said, her voice teasing. She held her lantern up so he could see her flirtatious smile.
 
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Mina Berkeley's Voyage: May Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot (cont.)



But the effect was quite opposite of what she had intended. The light threw her face in such stark relief that the lines of her mouth and thin lips became a rictus, her teeth rotten and black, her hair as coarse as dried hay, and her eyes, with their heavy layer of paint, were grotesquely bright and peered at him with eager, mocking greed.

For a moment Hudson was startled by the effect, for he was just as superstitious as most seamen and paid as much attention to omens, good and bad. The woman looked in that instant like nothing so much as a witch or some kind of demon. But then she held the lantern out once again and proceeded.

“Come along if you please, Lieutenant.”

She led him through another doorway that opened into a smaller space, what had been the original root cellar. She stopped in front of another solidly built door that seemed to be set into the foundation wall itself.

“If you would be so good as to stand right there, Lieutenant, for a moment.” She hung the lantern on a hook above her head, and opened the door to what, apparently, was a small chamber, and stood at the doorway.

“Loretta,” Madame Louisa said, “There is a young gentleman I want you to see. Give Minette her medicine and come out.”

Hudson had to strain to hear the response, for the walls of the chamber were thick and swallowed up sound. Then Madame Louisa went into the chamber, and even with the door ajar he could not make out words, but he could hear from the tone that the other’s response was grudging, even sullen. He listened especially acutely, but he could not recognize her voice.

He heard a muffled “crack!” that was no doubt a slap.

“No more of your nonsense!” Madame Louisa said loudly enough for Hudson to hear, “You will do as I say!”

Hudson thought to throw open the door and put an end to this foolishness, but in that same instant the door opened and Madame Louisa stepped out.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. Loretta has recently begun to put on airs, and I must put her in her place.”

Madame Louisa reached in the doorway and impatiently pulled the unwilling young woman out. Hudson looked closely at her, but in the dim lantern light and with the woman’s hair falling over her face, it was impossible to distinguish her features. She was slender to the point of thinness, but that was as he preferred. He noted with approval that she did not appear especially dirty. She was dressed in a simple shift, and appeared to have a good form underneath it.

But Hudson was disappointed. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this was no pearl. This looked to be just another skinny whore. If Madame Louisa thought she could cheat him of his money with some tale of mystery and intrigue, then she did not know her man!

“What sort of game are you playing at?” Hudson demanded. “I could buy a dozen such creatures at any port of call.”

At the sound of his voice, Laura looked up in shock and stared at the man in front of her. She immediately remembered that voice, that petulant, mocking voice, the wretched, sadistic, petty tyrant’s voice of the man who had done all in his power to punish and humiliate her!

And here the villain was, looking at her with the same expression of superiority and contempt that she had seen on his smug, pasty face when he had come for her at the jail, when he had escorted her to the punishment barge, when he had announced the next set of lashes at the side of every ship in the fleet, when he had thrown her on the beach at the conclusion of her torture, her back torn to shreds and in pain beyond reckoning, and had offered nothing but a crude, mocking jest.

Self important, vain, vindictive, egotistical, sadistic Lieutenant Hudson!

Laura gasped and choked on her anger, fear, and hatred. Her fists clenched so tight that the nails cut into her palms. She jerked her head up, and howled a primal, agonized, denial from the depths of her soul,

Madame Louisa shook her, and slapped her hard across the face.

“That’s enough, Loretta! Be silent!”

The weight of the dreadful memories came crashing down on her and drove her to her knees. Undimmed by laudanum, it all come rushing back, that awful, indescribable day.

Madame Louisa took a firm grip on her bicep, and gave Laura a vigorous shake.

“Stand up, Loretta, you useless cow!” she cried.

For his part, Hudson was stunned as well. Although he was not at all a romantic or imaginative man, his thoughts of women had been dominated by Laura Berkeley since the day he first saw her.

Of course the tale had spread throughout the fleet and at every port of call about the whipping. There had been much talk and speculation about the young woman’s fate: that she had died, or had been transported a criminal to New South Wales, or had been taken captive by Mohammedan slavers, and now served some Arabian potentate.

The most prosaic possibility, that she had recovered and taken ship back to England, was never mentioned, but this was his preferred version, for it united his dreams of meeting her again and of walking once again the streets of London.

He had one particular vision of Laura Berkeley, and only one, that stimulated him in his bunk on many a night off watch. It was this: He happens upon her strolling along a dockyard street, her body available for a copper or two or a dram of rum. He is in charge of a press gang, a duty he enjoys, and she is emerging from a dead end alleyway, her latest john tucking in his shirt and buttoning his breeches.

Their eyes meet. Her expression transforms from that of the dead eyed, apathetic, half drunk whore she has become to the upper crust Laura Berkeley who regards him with the same terror and pain that was on her face when last he saw her.

Just for sport he allows his men to pull her back into the alley and sate their pleasure on her while he watches. Then he has them march her to the local constabulary to be whipped and sent to the Bridewell as an unrepentant whore.

And such a satisfying dream it was! But actually meeting her again under circumstances so similar to his dream was beyond his ken.

He gawped at her for a long moment, stunned speechless.

Here she was, the same Laura Berkeley whose tits and arse had so delighted him, whose agonized cries and piteous pleas under the lash had so moved him with delight! And now here, in this place, at this moment, on her knees to him, collapsed in a heap of fear and despair, just as he had envisioned!

Laura grabbed Madame Louisa’s skirts.

“You would not dare!” Laura cried, “I will tell Mr. Flaywell!”

Louisa slapped her across the face. “Do you think Flaywell would give a tinker’s damn about you?” she hissed. “You are nothing to him! As long as you are able to do your work, he cares nothing about you. And don’t forget, you little bitch, you and your sister live in my house!”

Hudson noted the name “Flaywell.” He was not familiar with it, but soon would be. Without another word he counted out the coins, the full price that Madame Louisa had named, and handed them to her.

With a look of triumph Madame Louisa made an exaggerated curtsy. “Well, I shall leave you two lovebirds alone for a time,” Madame Louisa said. “Lt. Hudson, I beg you sir, do be mindful of Loretta’s duties and responsibilities, and do not mark her.”

Lt. Hudson impatiently waved Madame Louisa away. “Do not insult me woman! You have been paid. Now be off with you!”

With a last, offended glance backward, Madame Louisa climbed the interior stairs up to the house. She reminded herself to tell the doorman to check on them, to see that the young fool did not seriously harm Loretta.

Lt. Hudson reached down to Laura and took her by the arm.

“Come, Miss Berkeley, let’s get reacquainted, shall we?”

Laura, sick with fear and dread, yet had enough anger in her to twist her arm out of his grip. She would stand on her own!

“What, Miss Berkeley, still feisty, are we?” Hudson said. Already he had a cockstand in his eagerness. “Very well! I wish to look you over. Stand under the lantern there.”

Laura’s first impulse was to strike out at this horrible man, to scream at him, to kick him, to fight him with every last breath in her body.

It was a measure of how far she had come that she was able to overmaster that impulse. Her first and overriding concern was that she take care of and protect Mina. She would allow nothing, no immediate impulse of hers, to compromise that mission.

She calmed herself. She slowed her ragged, gasping breaths, eased the tension in her shoulders and arms, stilled the roiling in her stomach, the gorge that rose in her throat.

Hudson enjoyed her initial, violent response. He found himself just a little disappointed at how quickly she had regained control of herself as she stood, her expression full of fear, hatred and defiance, but calm.

“Turn around,” he said.

She turned, her back to him.

“Drop your shift,” Hudson said.

Without a murmur, Laura slipped the shift from her shoulders. It dropped to the ground, leaving her naked. For a moment, she became dizzy, and thought she might faint. She clutched her hands into tighter fists until her knuckles ached and her palms burned.

Deep breaths, she told herself. Her vision cleared. Her fists loosened.

Laura felt Hudson’s breath on the back of her neck.

It took a strength Laura no longer knew she had to stand in place while Hudson stroked her shoulders and squeezed her arms. His hands traveled over her back, tracing the ridges and whorls that rather than deformed her skin, had become her skin. She became dizzy again with the warring impulses of a fear so profound that she wanted to fall on the ground and curl into a ball, with that of an urge to cry out in rage, to strike him down, to spit on him and mock him while she stamped his face into a bloody gruel. His hands reached around, gripping her breasts, traveling down over her belly to the thatch of hair at her crotch.

“A dozen dozen,” Hudson said. “I shall always savor that day. I’ve heard that one no longer feels it after the first sixty, give or take. But I’ve seen too many whippings to believe it. I’m sure you felt every last lash, and could describe them in intimate detail. Is that not so, Miss Berkeley?”

“Yes, that is so, Lt. Hudson,” she replied, startling them both with the evenness of her tone.

Her bland response enraged Lt. Hudson.

“I’ll have none of your insolence,” he said. “I did not tolerate it then, and I won’t now.” To make his point, he cupped her buttocks and squeezed hard. “As I recall, there was some talk of whipping your arse as well, to spare your back. I am most glad that I had the foresight to spare it, and find it still virgin territory, shall we say?”

He pulled her hips against his groin so she could feel his erection. He ground it against her buttocks.

“Into your kennel, now,” Lt. Hudson said. He reached around Laura, grabbed her left breast, and with his other hand gripped her behind her neck. He gave her a little jostle, like a puppeteer with his favorite puppet. She did not resist him. Like a puppet, she walked where he guided her--into the chamber.

He saw that the chamber was rather small for his purposes, but it would do, oh yes, it would do. For a first time.
 
Mina Berkeley's Voyage: May Auld Acquaintance Be Forgot (cont.)




He barely glanced at the figure in the small bed. She was of no immediate interest to him. Eagerly Hudson spun Laura around, and pushed her against the far wall. He gripped her slender throat.

“Miss Laura I’m Great God A’mighty fucking Berkeley,” he breathed into her face, “Too hoity toity for the likes of a Lieutenant in His Majesty’s Navy, were we? Too high and mighty for the likes of me! Look where you are now, you whore! I’ve seen you whipped for your airs and now I’ll use you like the whore you are!”

He groped her shamelessly, twisting and kneading her breasts, twisting and pinching her nipples. His eager hand slid down and cupped her crotch. A finger, then two, parted her vulva, and thrust deeply into the vaginal vault.

Her face twisted in humiliation and pain at the brutal manhandling.

He was panting like a dog, blowing his hot breath on her face. “You want it, don’t you, you uppity bitch, you’re not too good for me now are you, you shameless cunt!” he said, then bent to lick and bite her breasts.

He pushed her hard against the wall and took a step away from her. He laughed mirthlessly. He twisted her nipple especially cruelly. His hand lashed out and slapped her across the face.

“Even now you dare to look at me with disdain!” he said. “I flogged that look off your face once before, missy, and now I will fuck it off! On your knees, you poxy whore!”



Laura dropped to her knees. She had determined that she would not resist, she would not fight. She would do what she was told. What more could he do to her that hadn’t already been done? This would be over with soon, and Mina would never know. She had to protect Mina, whatever else might come.

Hudson quickly stripped out of his coat, breeches, and shoes, leaving himself clad only in his shirt and stockings.

Laura gazed at his cock with dull disinterest. She reached a hand for it, and opened her mouth to receive it. In answer, Hudson pushed Laura over with his foot.

“Oh no, Madam,” he said, “I shan’t allow you to suck my cock just yet. I will take you like the bitch you are.”

He threw down a spare blanket to cushion his knees. He knelt behind her, and with his hand between her shoulder blades forced her torso and head to the floor, then pushed her legs apart, elevating her buttocks and exposing her sex. He mounted her and thrust against her labia. In his eagerness his aim was poor and he repeatedly thrust the head of his cock against her vulva, his shaft slipping between her lips, but not penetrating her.

He slapped her across the arse in frustration. “Spread your quim!” he demanded.

Laura was practiced in this. She wet her fingers on her tongue as best she could, for her mouth was as dry as her vagina. She reached back between her legs and spread open her nether lips.

With a grunt and a thrust, Hudson entered her. It was dry in there, but Hudson didn’t pause. He was inside Laura Berkeley’s cunt! He was fucking Laura Berkeley, the woman who had haunted his desires! He looked down at the ruin of her back, and gloried that he had been responsible for that!

“Ah!” he cried, bucking his cock into her warm cunny. In a very few hard strokes he felt his release, and in that same moment felt it burst into her. In his excitement he had come too soon! He’d popped like a midshipman with his first whore!

Angry and disappointed Hudson slapped Laura hard across the arse, a dull smack that was swallowed by the thick walls of the chamber. He smacked her again and then again, hard, trying to hurt her, to make her pay for cheating him.

He got to his feet and glanced around the chamber for something to beat her with. Fuck Madame Louisa, he would treat this whore as she deserved! His eyes settled on his shoe. It was not a whip, nor a leather belt, but it would serve.

Laura looked up, and saw his frustration. It was always bad when a man came too soon. It made them feel less manly, and they always blamed the woman.

“Stay down!” Hudson demanded. “I won’t have it! I’ll teach you, you insolent bitch!”



Laura gasped and grunted as he pounded her buttocks. It hurt, but of course she had been through much worse. Even some of the whippings Madame Louisa had given her had caused her more pain. She wanted to laugh at him, to throw his anger back in his face.

Once again, she refrained. Protect Mina, she thought.

“Beg me, whore: ‘Please sir, fuck me again.’ Say it!”

“Please sir, fuck me again,” Laura said.

“Ha! You don’t mean it!”

And Hudson continued to belabor her arse with the sole of his shoe until it was bright red, and she was gasping in distress.

“Beg me, whore!”

“Fuck me sir, please fuck me!”

Hudson quickly discovered that beating Laura Berkeley’s arse was far better than Spanish fly as an aphrodisiac. Hudson’s cock was hard and stiff again, eager for another taste.

He knelt behind her and noted with satisfaction how she jumped and gasped as he sank his hands into her buttocks.

Dutifully she reached back through her legs to open her labia, and he waited for her to spread them, to get an eyeful of the pink interior, now glistening with his previous emission. He took a good, heady whiff of her cunt as well. He dipped the length of his shaft into her, back and forth several times, taking his time, not in a headlong rush.

Greased with the lubrication of his previous, abbreviated foray, he withdrew.

She, thinking he had slipped out, reached back again, in her own eagerness to get this over with.

But that was not his target. He slapped her hand away, and instead, splayed open the bud of her anus and pushed the head of his cock against her arsehole.

She gasped in spite of herself. “Ha! Surprise,” he exclaimed. He gripped her hips and thrust himself deeply into her bunghole, grunting with animal pleasure at her warmth and tightness.

“Yes, I shall ream out your bung for you, you sloppy cunted whore,” he cried. He let go of a hip to slap her hard on the flank, as though driving a horse.

She gasped in pain and outrage. It was not the first time a man had used her there, but she had always tried to turn them away by offering her mouth or cunt, and most times she succeeded. It was humiliating and painful and she hated it, especially when she was unprepared.

She laid her forehead in the crook of her elbow as she bore up under his pounding. Her knees and elbows hurt as they were driven into the brick floor from the weight of his thrusts. But this was nothing, she told herself. Surely he would soon be done.

Indeed, his thrusts were becoming more insistent and rapid, deeper and more painful; his breathing was rushed. He cursed her with every breath, calling her every foul name he could think of, and slapping her flanks and jerking her up by her hair to bite her on the neck and twist and pinch her nipples.

“You filthy slattern, you slut, you love this don’t you bitch, that’s right, now you’re being fucked by a real man,” he gasped into her ear. “Aw, yes,” he said, as he approached the climax of his frenzy.



Mina was slowly surfacing from her laudanum induced sleep. Her rest had been disquieted by the sounds of her sister in distress. The sounds were muffled and far away, but they intruded into her consciousness and seemed to come closer and closer until she could distinguish the sounds of angry, whispered words and slaps and gasps of dismay and pain. Her eyes opened, but for a moment she couldn’t focus. She looked to her side, where the sounds were coming from and suddenly things became very, very clear to her.

“What are you doing to my sister?” she shouted in alarm.

Mina had become stronger under her sister’s unstinting care, and raised herself off the bed. She could even stand on her own now, and walk a short distance. She dropped her legs over the side of the bed.

Startled, Hudson withdrew from Laura’s arsehole, his cock still erect and protruding through his shirttails, spewing cum on the floor.

“What are you doing? Leave my sister alone!” Mina cried.

“What, who are you?” Hudson confronted the young woman. “Her sister, did you say?”

He slapped his hands together, completely unmindful that he was naked below the waist. “Of course! I had heard something of it; the Berkeley sister coming to the rescue, and being served in turn! No doubt you’re jealous of your sister, and would like to be served by me as well!”

Hudson put his hand on Mina’s chest and pushed her back down on the bed. He had no intention of actually fucking her, mindful that if what Louisa said was true, then she was the property of an admiral. But the look of outrage on her face thrilled him. He could see the family resemblance.

He started to turn back to Laura, to taunt her with her sister.

Laura, with unthinking abandon, powered by a surge of anger, had seized the three legged stool upon which she had spent many an hour beside Mina’s bed. She picked it up by two of it’s legs, and swung it with all her strength against the back of Hudson’s head.

There was a loud “Crack!” as the edge of the stool seat impacted his skull. The seat broke off and clattered on the floor. Hudson dropped as though poleaxed.

Laura and Mina stared at the inert form for a moment, then at each other.

Laura reached out her hand to Mina to help her up.

“I will help you, dear sister,” Laura said. “But we must leave.”
 
Laura, with unthinking abandon, powered by a surge of anger, had seized the three legged stool upon which she had spent many an hour beside Mina’s bed. She picked it up by two of it’s legs, and swung it with all her strength against the back of Hudson’s head.
I have to admit that I cheered when I got to this point. Way to go, Laura!
 
I have read (and thoroughly enjoyed) the first two of the recent three entries and will hold comments until I finish the third. However, there was one passage that required comment.
Of course the tale had spread throughout the fleet and at every port of call about the whipping. There had been much talk and speculation about the young woman’s fate: that she had died, or had been transported a criminal to New South Wales, or had been taken captive by Mohammedan slavers, and now served some Arabian potentate.
Such a wonderful set of possibilities. It is as if you are setting up multiple sequels to entrap your readers in the erotic and dominating possibilities. If this were a story starring Barbara Moore, we would know she would be exposed to everyone before it was over. That one short passage is like an entire erotic novel of its own! :clapping: :very_hot:
 
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I have read (and thoroughly enjoyed) the first two of the recent three entries and will hold comments until I finish the third. However, there was one passage that required comment.

Such a wonderful set of possibilities. It is as if you are setting up multiple sequels to entrap your readers in the erotic and dominating possibilities. If this were a story starring Barbara Moore, we would know she would be exposed to everyone before it was over. That one short passage is like an entire erotic novel of its own! :clapping: :very_hot:
I should have expanded on the first possibility: that she had died, and was even now being tormented, tortured and ravished by the most fiendish imps of hell. A fate worse than mere death.
 
He groped her shamelessly, twisting and kneading her breasts, twisting and pinching her nipples. His eager hand slid down and cupped her crotch. A finger, then two, parted her vulva, and thrust deeply into the vaginal vault.
It seems that Hudson (did he ever work as a butler in Belgravia?) has borrowed my technique of foreplay. Good choice, sire, the girls all love it!
He was panting like a dog, blowing his hot breath on her face. “You want it, don’t you, you uppity bitch, you’re not too good for me now are you, you shameless cunt!” he said, then bent to lick and bite her breasts.
OMG! He's borrowed my little love flirtation too! All my secrets are out!
Hudson quickly discovered that beating Laura Berkeley’s arse was far better than Spanish fly as an aphrodisiac. Hudson’s cock was hard and stiff again, eager for another taste.
A discovery that most of us have made!
But we must leave
Master of understatement! "Send lawyers, guns, and money! Dad, get me out of this!"

Marvelous update! You succeeded in painting an excellent action set and scene that goes way beyond the usual rape and beating we find here. Bravo!
 
This story is truly a great source of inspiration. I would like to resume the story from the beginning and make an adequate translation into my language, because also from a stylistic point of view it is a very interesting and valuable work. Surely there are many aspects that deserved to be better illustrated and I will try to improve some illustrations already made or to make new ones, also taking better care of the appearance of the characters. The last two images were taken straight away, immediately after reading, without any particular retouching or second thoughts. When the source is good, the artistic work comes by itself.
 
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