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Chapter 23. Sara’s penance
August 15th 1831.
‘It doesn’t seem like over eight months since my arrival.
Sara didn’t turn up for lunch last Sunday. I wasn’t unduly worried as she was often a little late if the Priest in Charge gave her a penance to do for some perceived sin. I knew she had her arse spanked and had his cock in her afterwards. Sara and the twins were the only ones of the Roman Catholic faith but for some reason Father O'Mally never bothered the twins. This may have in part been because Sara was so much more physically developed and with her outgoing personally she confessed to many more sins and seemed to enjoy herself in the crypt. The twins on the other hand were quiet and never said anything and left immediately after the service had finished.
When lunch was over and things cleared away, Katherine asked Alice if she would allow her to look for Sara. She found the poor girl still three quarters of a mile from here holding her crotch and barely able to walk. Several other villagers were around her but Sara just sat crying and saying she’d done penance. One of the women, a Mrs. Denison, took her in to her house while Katherine ran back here and got Jack to take the horse and cart to fetch her.
I was in my study with Alice when Katherine knocked at the door. I wasn’t very happy at being disturbed as Alice and I were just beginning to fondle each other on the bed. Katherine burst in without waiting for an answer but before I could reprimand her she begged Alice to come and see Sara. "Please come Miss Alice. Them fathers have hurt her bad this time. You’d better come and see too Sir. We have her in her bedroom."
I was shocked by what I saw. Sara’s cunnie area, her bottom and inside her thighs were one raw looking blister. So were both titties. Alice immediately took charge. "Bring her to the kitchen and get a dozen pillows and bring them too," she ordered the women who stood by. Frieda and Violet she ordered into the garden to look for dock leaves. I guessed then, the cause of the blistering. Alice recognised nettle rash. Sara, in her anguish kept trying to scratch the blister but Alice soon bound her hands so it was impossible for to reach the affected areas.
They arranged the pillows on the kitchen table so that only Sara’s back rested on them. Her bottom was clear of the table by six inches or so. Katherine wanted to put cold water on the blisters but Alice forbade it because she said water made the pain worse and others agreed. As soon as the dock leaves arrived Alice had them chopped and pounded and poultices made which she gently laid on the terribly sore places. They seemed to have a little effect but we could see Sara was still in terrible agony. I’d given the girl a goodly dose of the birch on several occasions but had never seen her in such a state. It took Jack and two of the stronger ladies to hold her on the table. We sent out the women again to scour the lanes for more dock leaves and I allowed her to have a little opium water to ease the pain and to quieten her thrashing around and this did indeed work. Without even consulting me, Alice had her carried to my bed, which is much softer than the workhouse mattresses.
I had Jack drive Alice and Sara to Doctor Sedgton’s surgery next morning and he prescribed some lotion that seemed better than the dock leaves. Everywhere she’d been stung by the nettles was still horribly blistered and the dock leaf treatment had seemed ineffectual when the poison was over such a large area. I hoped to later wring the money for the doctor’s fee out of the sadistic priest. Apparently, according to Alice, the good doctor was most concerned as to how she came by such injury and she had to repeatedly assure him it wasn’t anything to do with the workhouse. She told him to ask Mrs. Denison, the woman who took Sara in and we believed it was some sort of penance given out by the church. Sara still stubbornly refused to talk or it may have been the opium water blotting out her mind. Doctor Sedgton suggested she not be given any more even though it might have a calming effect on the body, it was believed to have harmful effects on the mind.
It was the next evening before Sara was well enough to begin talking about what happened and even then the story wasn’t coherent. She took more broth and we left her tale till the morning. By then a lot of the blistering had gone down and the skin was covered in a measles-like rash. The whole area was painful to touch but the lotion now seemed to be working and removing some of the irritation. As usual it was Alice that gently prised the story from her while I sat by and listened. For this journal I will piece the story together for it was told with many outbursts of tears and with gaps we filled in with later questions.
"So you went to confessions?" Alice asked
"Yes, but not in the proper box but in the crypt. We often do this when Father O’Mally wants to spank or fuck me." Sara started her tale. "This time there were two others dressed in priest’s robes already down there. It seemed like they’d had a bit of a party because there were liqueur bottles and cakes and stuff around. Father just said they were visiting priests and had been on a trip where they hadn’t had a woman for a while. He introduced them as Father Ignatius and Father Dominic but I don’t think they were their real names as sometimes when I spoke they took a moment to remember to answer. At first I thought I was just going to get three cocks instead of one so wasn’t at all worried."
"We’re all going to hear your confession today Sara," Father O’Mally said, "Make sure you confess to everything and give us all the smallest details."
"Don’t you think it would help to cleanse her spirit if she removed those rags she is wearing first?" Father Dominic asked.
"I was a bit put out by him calling my nice Sunday dress, rags but at Father O’Mally’s behest I took my clothes off. They sat me on blankets on a stone tomb thing that is down there and spread my legs wide so when they sat on chairs in front of me they could see my cunnie about level with their faces. Father O’Mally had fucked me on that tomb many times so I guessed I was going to have my cunnie well filled and I was looking forward to it. Father Dominic made me put my hands behind my back and push my titties out so, he said, my sins could escape more freely from my body. I knew it was really for them to see my hard nips. As I said, at that time, I didn’t mind. I even suggested they too might wish to remove their robes so they might better take my sins into them and purify them. This they did. All three were fully hard and I wondered if they would wait for my confession before stuffing their cocks in me. They couldn’t."
"brothers," Father Ignatius spoke, "Do you not think it would help if we put some of our cleansing fluids inside her body before she starts confessing?"
"I knew what that meant. They laid me down on the tomb with my legs dangling over one end."
"Guests first," Father O’Mally said and Father Dominic lifted my legs on his shoulders and started to ram me hard. His was quite a thick cock and I felt nice and full with it in me but he shot his seed too quick for me to cum. Father Ignatius was next. His was normal and he was able to keep going longer. I had my spasms about halfway through and again spasmed when Father O’Mally took me so I was quite well satisfied. They sat and filled their glasses and I was ordered to clean their cocks so I had a good look at the poles that had serviced me. Father Ignatius laughed and said, "Her mouth is much softer that yours Father Dom."
"And I wager her arse is tighter too, brother," Father Dominic replied.
"Time for you to confess now Sara," Father O’Mally said, "Get up on the tomb like you were."
"I did and made up a story of how I had met a group of six men in the woods and showed by body to them. First just my breasts and then everything until they were so worked up they forced themselves on to me, sucking my titties and putting their cocks in all my holes. Even though it was a made-up story, I kept adding the naughtiest details of what they did to me and how much I liked it. I hoped they would get worked up again too and repeat their earlier rogering of me.
"I think such behaviour deserves punishing by a severe penance," Father O’Mally stated and the others agreed with him and the three went to the far corner and talked amongst themselves for a while. Father O’Mally left and Father Ignatius gave me a glass of whiskey. It burned my throat but it felt nice and warm in my belly so I had another one, which made me a little light headed.
When Father O’Mally came back he brought with him a covered wicker basket. At the time I thought it was more food. How wrong I was.
I was again sat on the tomb and Father Ignatius, he seemed to be the senior one and the one who was most cruel, said "Sara you have sinned very badly. Even if the confession you have given us is a pack of lies, it shows the disgusting state of your mind. It is our opinion you need a severe penance to drive these sins out. We three holy fathers are here to do that for you. When you leave here you will have little thought for the crude sexual deviations you have described to us."
"I little knew then how true that was but I guessed I was in for a whipping. The two visiting priests took me and forcibly tied me upside down in a doorway with my legs wide apart. My hands just reached the floor so I could relieve some of the pressure from my ankles but my cunnie and titties were well on display. From upside down position I could see their cocks were again hard and still expected on a token beating before they had me again.
Father Ignatius removed the cloth from the basket and showed me the nettles. I nearly fainted as I have a fear of them any way."
"Sara, God has provided us with a plant that has a force within itself to drive out your sins in a very satisfactory way."
"I screamed and begged them not to do it but they only laughed. Father O’Mally had refilled their glasses and I knew the liqueur had already dulled their sensibilities and it showed by the grins on their faces."
"If you sin," Father Ignatius went on, "You must expect to be punished. As the servant of our Lord, I shall take great pleasure in carrying out his work." Each priest put on gloves and made thick birches from the long stemmed nettles. I was shown them and told, the priests wouldn’t even have to hit hard for these birches to be effective. I still begged and pleaded but they were past hearing. Father Dominic went the other side of the door and stood behind my bum, Father Ignatius in front and to one side so he could beat the front of my cunnie, thighs and stomach and Father O’Mally the other side to whip my titties. Each took it in turn to swing their bunch of nettles. Father Ignatius started and despite what he said about not have to hit hard, brought his bunch smartly right along my open cunnie crack. I know I screamed. It felt like a million bees had stung. Hardly had that registered and I felt another slash almost in the same place but catching more of my bottom. Father Dominic had struck from the other side. Then the underside of my titties, which was the top in my position, felt the terrible sting. So it went on, seemingly for ages until as you saw my whole bottom and stomach area and particularly my cunnie and titties were one big blister and I near lost all my senses. My eyes blurred. My sight lost its vision of swaying hard cocks and flaying arms. Next thing I remembered was being on the tomb again and more pain as a cock was forced between the swollen lips of my cunnie. I think all three had me again but I knew not much about it. I do remember a glass being held to my lips and the fiery liquid bringing me back to my painful life.
Some time later, I don’t know how long, I found myself trying to walk home. My dress and shoes had been put on and I must have walked a little way before the stupor I was in hit me and I felt in so much pain, I couldn’t go any further. I sort of remember being in someone’s house and trying to sit but couldn’t and then Jack lifting me into the cart and that was all until I was here and being looked after by you and the others."
Immediately I took Jack and myself to the priest’s home and challenged him as to his behaviour. At first he denied the allegations and suggested it was all lies made up by Sara but I pointed out she was seen coming from his church in a state such as she could not have made up anything, indeed she couldn’t speak. Mrs. Denison and other women would vouch for this. He blustered a bit and I threatened to inform his cardinal. "And then I shall have to put paid to your Saturday evening sessions, Josiah," he said. After much argument, I got compensation for the doctor’s fees and an assurance he wouldn’t bother Sara or any others in my care again.
I know some punishments I have given out have been harsh, but they have been for real offences like those given to Clara and Bell, but never have I inflicted so much pain for sexual pleasure and given in the name of God. I am resolved never to allow Sara to attend the Roman church again.’
"I can feel for that poor girl," Margaret muttered when she and Jeremy read through the latest part of the journal she had decoded. "Luckily we didn’t have many nettles in our garden. To save work we had all grass but once, when there had been a lot of rain and I hadn’t been able to mow it for a couple of weeks, one grew through from our neighbours. Father spotted it and put it inside my school knickers. It was only about a foot high but quite a bushy plant with several stems. He put gloves on and folded the plant a few times and when he'd tied my hands, lowered my knickers a little way and stuffed the plant inside, making sure it would cover my cunt and most of my bum. The pain was pretty awful when he pulled my knickers up tight but worse was to come because he put me over his knee and gave me a hard spanking which drove more of the stings into me. At one point some leaves must have protruded from the material and he hit them. The pain in his hand made him very angry so he pounded my arse more but this time with a glove on. I had to leave the nettles in my knickers and sit for an hour after which they were ineffective. They had done their work and my bottom and genitals were a mass of big, painful blisters."
"Did they make you horny?"
"No. As you know a little pain does stimulate me but the irritation from the nettles was nothing like that. I wanted to scratch and rub but the pain was too intense. Like Sara, even after the blisters had gone down, I had an itchy rash for some weeks. After that I made sure no nettles ever invaded our garden. And no! It is not something I want you to try on me."
"It can be stimulating Margaret, but only when used in very small doses. I’ll try it tonight and I promise you it will not be anything like what you had before and certainly not like Sara."
Chapter 24. Urtification
Margaret sat bound to the oak chair in the bedroom. Her breasts swelling nicely from being clamped with the tit clamps, her thighs tied obscenely wide apart, revealed her open cunt. Jeremy had still not told her exactly what he intended to do but she knew he’d been outside in the wilderness they still called a garden and had come back with a box of nettles although as part of his secrecy, she hadn’t seen how many were in it. While she had learned to trust him and so far he had not hurt her badly she always fearful and had doubts as to whether he might go further than he intended. He inflicted pain, but it was pain that aroused her and their fucking afterwards was always very intense. He also played mind games like when she was on the bar and he had her imagining she was to be flogged in front of an audience who ****d her afterwards. His word pictures made the scene so vivid and yet there were only the two of them in the house.
"I think your nips are hard enough now for us to start your urtification, Margaret. Did you know that is what it is called?" Jeremy asked. "The rash it causes is urticaria after the Latin name of the nettle. I’m sure you wanted to know that at this time," he joked. "There are men and women who use nettles to stimulate or hurt themselves or their partners. I wonder if they are called ‘urticants’? Perhaps we’ll talk about them more after you have become one. Some go much further than I am going with you tonight unless I feel you are enjoying it."
"I know I won’t enjoy it Jeremy and I don’t really want you to try it but you have me tied helpless here and can do what you wish. While I trust you, I am also afraid. Nettles are not like the cane, it takes a bit for the full blisters to come although the pain is immediate but you won’t be able to see that."
"Yes Margaret. You are helpless and totally in my power. If I wish I could cover those swollen tits of yours with an urticaria rash that will take weeks to disappear. I can press the leaves into your cleavage and rub them into you lovely mammeries. I can massage them into your pubic mound, into your bum crack and into you bum hole. You could do nothing to prevent it. You could scream loudly but in this place no one would hear."
Jeremy donned his driving gloves and opened the box and Margaret could see he had picked the rosette of leaves from only the topmost shoots. There were no long stems. "Was he going to fill her bra with them? Her knickers? Was he going to poke them inside her?" Margaret started to worry and was about to start shouting when Jeremy put the gag into her mouth, which caused her even more concern. "I ought to trust him," she said to herself, "But I’m never very sure he won’t go too far."
"Close your eyes Margaret," Jeremy intoned, "Close them because you do not wish to see your surroundings and the things that are here to torture you. Imagine it, Margaret. You are in this stone crypt, tied to a chair. In front of you is the inquisitor. At the moment he is in priest’s garb. Around, somewhere in the blackness, others are watching. Looking at you, their victim. They want to see how you react to a sexual punishment. To see how you react to the vicious bite of the nettle leaf when it is touched on your sensitive spots. But you will not just be touched with it, the painful leaves will be forced tight to your body. The inquisitor blindfolds you." Jeremy tied a dark cloth over Margaret’s eyes and started to massage her already hard nipples standing out from her bloated purple breasts. His gloved hands squeezed and mauled them. "Yes, these tits are ready to take the pain now. Can you stand it Margaret?"
Taking one of the nettle rosettes, Jeremy pushed it gently against her left nipple. Margaret moved involuntarily as the first nettle bites registered the pain in her brain. Again the nettles were pushed against the nipple, this time harder and when the leaves surrounded the protruding nub, Jeremy gripped them tightly and held them fast to the sensitive flesh.
Had she been able Margaret would have screamed. The pain was sharp. Severe. Biting. The glass-like, poison filled needles on the surface of the plant leaves embedded themselves in her nipple. Even when Jeremy removed the leaves her nipple the pain remained and for a short while seemed to worsen. A few moments later he repeated the procedure on the other nipple with a fresh nettle rosette. Although she tried to shake her breasts to get some relief, it was totally ineffective. Her body was tied tight to the chair and the tit clamps allowed very little movement. "Has that not made your tits nice and sensitive Margaret?" Jeremy enquired. She shook her head, no. "Perhaps when I remove the clamps it will." Jeremy slipped the rings from the clamps and blood flooded back making the whole breast area tingle exacerbating the pain in her nips. Placing his mouth over each nipple in turn, her tormentor suckled them, which eased the pain slightly, but it soon returned when Jeremy turned his attentions to her clitoris.
It didn’t take Margaret long to guess he would do the same with that organ. It was already engorged and protruding. She felt the surrounding hood pushed back further and then the painful sting as the nettles were dragged over the tender bud. Margaret bucked as just one leaf was pressed firmly around her clit and held there for some seconds before being taken away and replaced by a mouth. A mouth that deliciously sucked and nibbled. The pain in her breasts appeared to proportionally diminish as the arousal in her cunt increased. Jeremy’s mouth continued it ministrations until Margaret climaxed. He released her and them made love on the bed and relaxed side by side in the afterglow of a satisfying fuck.
"How’s your tits now dear?"
"Sort of itchy. Feels like they need rubbing. They’re very tender but they’ve been worse after a whipping. My cunnie, oh, I’m beginning to talk like Josiah now, is the same. Needs some more attention. Taking the hint Jeremy suckled her clit for some time while she serviced his cock until it was hard enough to perform a second time.
"Jeremy? You must have done that before to other women. Have you?"
"Not often. Most women are appalled at the thought. Having a nettle touch them is akin to letting a spider crawl over their skin. Even the thought horrifies them and makes their flesh cringe, but I did meet a family that was into it. They lived up north and had a small holding which they all worked on part time, almost as a hobby because they were into organic foods and stuff. All had other jobs too which paid the bills and left them comfortably off. Paula, who I met first and her sister Jackie, were married to two brothers, David and Jake. Both families lived in a big farmhouse and shared each other's partners. Not just wife swapping either. The two sisters and two brothers were lesbian and homosexual. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say they were all bisexual. They seemed to have a complicated timetable for who slept with whom so they all had a chance to indulge in everyone else.
I had just returned from India and met Paula at a party near Catterick where I was posted temporarily. We sat together and I regaled her with tales of my experiences and at her prompting told her of the sexual habits I’d found there. At the time I didn’t know she was even married. We met again the following week and had a much longer chat with her. I then learned of her relationship with the others and jumped at the chance of spending a long weekend at the farmhouse. That first weekend I had fairly normal sex with both her and Jackie and found out all four were into punishing each other and torturing themselves to a limited extent. Clothes pegs on tits and cocks and minor canings and such. Much like us. I gave both girls a spanking and watched the girls give the boys arses the belt. David and Jake showed me how hard they fucked each other in the arse afterwards when their arses were sore."
"Did they do it to you?" asked Margaret.
"Yes, but only once. As you know, I’m more into girls and don’t really get off too much on having cocks up my arse but I didn’t want to appear a spoilsport. It was on the Sunday, the five of us were playing at putting clothes pegs on each other. Us men, had a peg on each nipple and four along the shaft of our cocks, the girls also had a peg on each nipple and then three more around the aureoles. As they were about to put pegs on each other’s labia the subject of stinging nettles was mentioned and when I expressed an interest they said we would try in on my next visit.
When I arrived, they’d already collected the stinging nettles and had them in a jug of water. We took them to Paula’s bedroom and everyone undressed. "We think it braver if we apply the nettles to our own bodies," Paula said, "At least to those places we can get at." She gave a little laugh.
"Ladies first," David announced but when Jackie objected it still ended that way on the cut of cards. It was Jackie’s turn first. She wore light rubber gloves and plucked a rosette of the top leaves and, squeezing a breast with one hand to make the nipple stand right out, pushed the leaves hard on to the nipple. She grimaced but held the leaves tight, even moving them a little so they rubbed the aureole a bit. She counted aloud to twenty and then threw the leaves in the bin and showed me the blisters that were forming. I could see tears were forming in her eyes from the pain but she took another bunch of the leaves and repeated the performance with the other tit. When she threw the nettles away she vigorously rubbed both nipples.
"Have to wait a few minutes for the initial pain to die a little and the itch to start getting the tit throbbing nicely," Paula explained. Turning to Jackie she went on, "I’ll do my tits and then we’ll do each other’s clits." She did hers and asked me to rub them for her. I sucked them for a while too until Jackie laid on the bed ready for her clit torture. She lay on her back and held her legs by her ears so her cunt was fully displayed. I was asked to stimulate her clit and then Paula pushed and held the leaves on again for a count of twenty. Immediately she was released Jackie tried to rub it and cried out for a few minutes and then I sucked it for her until the pain had receded enough for her to get her own back on Paula.
Now it was the men’s turn. First we did our nipples like the girls. Then still wearing gloves we carefully took all the leaves from about a foot long length of stem. I was firmly told only to hold the end of the stem so as not to break off the poison glands lining all four of its squarish sides. The girls made sure our pricks were hard and outstanding and, for those of us who had foreskins, the covering was well back. We formed the stem into a loop that would slip over the prick head with plenty of room to spare. David demonstrated what to do. When the loop was in position we had to pull it so it fitted tightly and bound itself around the shaft just under the corona. This is the most sensitive part, and we had to hold it there for a count of twenty, just like the girls. The pain was pretty severe but I just managed to hold it for the count. As I’d had to wait for the demonstrations, the others had started before me and by now had their pricks buried in the girl’s cunts. I was still counting and afterwards had to content myself by rubbing my prick until Paula’s cunt became available. She was more than ready for me to tease her clit with my weapon and for quite a while afterwards we had to massage each other and have intercourse with the girls whenever we were hard enough. David did remark, they had tried going further and having a longer length of stem and binding the shaft with it but that just seemed too painful and didn’t promote any erection until a long while afterwards."
"You must let me try and loop your cock like that again, Jeremy," Margaret mused, "It would be nice to get my own back sometime."
Chapter 25. Dilly
Margaret’s stay at the Workhouse extended indefinitely. Her typing of the Journal was finished long ago. They’d printed in out and had two copies spiral bound for easy reading. Much of the later entries were rather repetitive in their accounts of who were punished on Saturdays but there were still some entries they liked to read over. Like this one.
‘September 29th 1831
A fortnight ago I had a visit from Wm. Forsdyke, the shipping and forwarding agent who is now married to Martha. He brought along a woman he’d found sleeping in one of his warehouses. She’d readily offered her body to him if he’d let her stay but she smelled too badly for him to even think of it. However, he saw that under the ragged clothes and grime she wasn’t too bad looking and looked strong. He ordered a couple of his stevedores to ‘scrub her down’ and gave them a few coppers to get some clothes from Eastons the second-hand clothes store on the quayside for her.’ Her name he found out was Dorothy Preston but everyone calls her Dilly.
"Sounds like me all over again," muttered Margaret as she read through the first paragraph. "I bet they didn’t call them ‘bag ladies’ then. I wonder what the term was?"
‘William said he watched the men from his office window and related what went on. It seemed to amuse him. "The woman naturally objected to being undressed by the men especially as many of the other workers kept passing by but after she had a couple of buckets of sea water thrown over her and was soaked from head to toe she took the clothes off by herself. Standing in front of the men she swore at them in true docker’s language. "Is that what you fucking wanted to see you scum faced bastard buggers?" she asked and continued to swear and hurl abuse at them. The stevedores were big tough men and just laughed at her the knocked her to the ground with more water and set to with brooms and a little soap and scrubbed her as she rolled on the floor. Luckily for Dilly, they’d been sweeping flour earlier so the brooms were the softer ones. Nevertheless they weren’t too gentle with her and the handles found their way into her crotch at times and her titties bounced well when the scrubbed them. Eventually I stepped in and gave her a cloth to dry herself and put her in a room by herself. This was more to keep my men working and not making sport of her, rather than to protect her modesty. I could see clearly now, she was a strong woman used to manual work. When the men came back and she was dressed I set her cleaning the outer office until it was time to leave and then brought her here."
"Did she come willingly?" I asked.
"Sort of," William smiled, "It was here or being put in the lock-up for vagrancy. She’s a bit rough and uncouth in her ways but no doubt a few touches from your birch will polish her up a bit. Underneath the rough exterior she seems quite a kindly woman. I only got part of her story so I’ll leave you to find out more. If she doesn’t fit in Josiah, let me know and I’ll take her back to the dock and see if the Sailors Tavern would want her." I decided to take a look at her and found she was not too unattractive although she would need feeding up. At about thirty-five years old and quite tall and muscular for a woman, she was not a beauty by any means but would add to my stock of women and I figure she might sell as a bed partner to some lonely man if her manners improved.
I told Alice to give her a good meal as we had finished ours and then to have the women bath her and bring her to me. She seemed pleased enough when I she heard about the meal but in her uncouth way spat out, "Don’t need another bath Sir. Them buggers this morn scrubbed me bloody skin to ribbons." I of course reprimanded her for swearing and pointed out, that in this workhouse swearing was punishable by the strap and if continued, by the birch.
A little later I heard and altercation in the kitchen and could hear Dilly’s angry voice. I also heard Alice call quietly for Jack so I waited to see what happened. The swearing continued but soon a crack of leather and the swearing was replaced by a scream. I entered the kitchen just as Katherine was stuffing Dilly’s mouth with a cloth. Jack had her held fast but was having some difficulty in holding the powerful, struggling woman. "Put her on the punishment bar, Alice and deal with her later. She may have calmed a bit by then." It wasn’t but a short time before Dilly was naked and strapped down to the pole on the punishment stool. I took the opportunity to examine her bottom and cunnie but without pushing my fingers inside and guessed they had both been well used.
Still the woman tried to struggle and we could tell she would be swearing at us had not the gag prevented it. Alice suggested we leave her for a while ‘to calm down and think about her manners’ and I agreed so we locked the door and left Dilly in there in complete darkness for over an hour.
When we returned with all the women to witness the punishment, Dilly was painfully aware of the narrow bar that ran between her breasts and pressed into her crack. I gave Dilly a long lecture on the behaviour I expected from the women here and the punishments they could expect. It ended with, "Dilly, if you wish to runaway in the morning, that’s fine by me but if you wish to stay and get three good meals a day you will conform to our rules. Your behaviour would normally warrant a severe birching in front of our Saturday guests but because it is your first time and I am still able to ask Mr. Forsdyke to take you back to the dock area next week if I am not satisfied with you, I will allow Alice as head of the household, to give you a thorough strapping." Turning to Alice I urged her to thrash the woman soundly. She did. The strap repeatedly lashed her buttocks and upper thighs until the whole area was red raw. Afterwards Jack wanted to ram his prick into her bottom hole but I refused to allow it until the doctor had seen her and checked she was free of the diseases many dockside whores carry. We left her again in darkness until Alice had her removed to a bed and asked Kate [Katherine?] to treat her bottom.
Dilly glared sourly at me when I arrived in the kitchen for breakfast. Kate and Mildred had helped her down and she didn’t reply when I gave my usual "Good Morning Ladies" greeting. Alice set her to work first with Mildred and then Kate and after two days I asked all three to report on how she had performed. All said she appeared somewhat clumsy and Kate said, "Although she seems to try, Dilly never seems to have worked with fine materials and consequently is constantly breaking the threads or tearing the cloth. I don’t think it’s really her fault Sir, she’s just never been trained. She’s got big awkward hands and the muscles of a man."
I sent for Dilly. At first my questions were answered with one or two words until Kate spoke to her. "What sort of sewing did you do before you came here?" she asked.
"Sewed sails, heavy canvas stuff. Used a palm and sail needle and waxed twine. Not thin cotton. I can splice ropes, reeve a tackle and skull a boat. All my life I’ve been at sea." I have translated her words into more readable english, as her Northumberland dialect was strong and her choice of words indelicate.
"Do you wish to go back to sea?" I asked.
"No Sir. Not no more. I’ve had enough of the sea now."
"Well I don’t know what to put you on doing here Dilly," I said, "Your not into housework, you can’t handle fabrics and I fear much would get torn in the laundry if I put you there. I shall have to think about how to fit you into our community or give you back to Mr. Forsdyke."
"If you please Sir." It was Mildred that spoke, "Why not try her in the garden Sir. Percy’s always complaining they garden is too big for one man to look after."
Percy was a man of forty years who I took into my employ a month ago. He lives on his own in a cottage in the village and works hard and has begun to get the garden in some sort of order after having been neglected for so long. After finding him in the tool shed eating his sandwiches alone one lunchtime, I suggested he sat with us and shared our lunch, which he has been doing for the past few weeks. At lunch that day I put the suggestion to him but he seemed shocked at the thought of a woman gardener. "They’re alright doing some field work when needed but no respectable house that I knows of, has a woman gardener." I pointed out the woman was strong and could easily lift sacks and push a barrow. She was also used to an outdoor life and being outside in all weathers. "A woman’s place is in the home and in the bed!" he stoutly argued.
Alice whispered to me. "Remember Bobby? We made a woman of him. Put trousers on her." This seemed a good idea and as I had to go into town the next day, I took her in the cart with me and visited Eastons and bought with several pairs of seaman’s trousers, guernseys and shirts. She was a more talkative on the way back and I found out a little more of her life.
"I met Douglas Preston when I was fifteen. His father owned a collier and after seeing me a few times I went to sea with him. We were never married but we lived as man and wife although he was much older than I was. For about a year we got along fine but then some of the younger seaman started to woo me and after a while I let them have me. It was fairly easy to find places on the boat that were away from prying eyes but then Dougie caught me at it.."
"What did he do about it, seeing neither you nor the seaman could leave?"
"He give us both lashing with the rope. It was freezing cold and the sea had quite a lop on, breaking o’er the starb’d bow and sending icy spray along the length of the brig. He has us both stripped starkers and I was tied to the foremast and him to the main so we could both see each other but I was in the worst of the spray. Soon I was wet all over. He’d already picked out two lengths of hemp as thick as your thumb and gives one to the mate. "Match my strokes on that fucking bastard," he orders and despite the motion lays it across my back while the rest of the crew watch. I screamed but it was lost in the noise of the wind and waves. I felt the rope rip a line of fire across my shoulders. He was very slow between each lash, as he had to wait until he’d got good balance and catch a moment when the ship was relatively still. Gradually he turned my whole back and arse into a mass of welts. God did I hurt. I cried, screamed and pleaded but he was too angry to stop. Through my wet eyes and the spray I could vaguely see the man getting the lash as well. Eventually it stopped and although it was very cold, my back and bum were on fire. I was left there for a while for the salt water to clean the wounds that were bleeding and then was taken to our cabin and bent over the table. Dougie rammed his cock in and kept yelling that his was the only cock that was to enter my cunnie in future and for a long while afterwards it was.
Over the years Dougie took more and more to rum and became less and less in charge of the vessel and Jock, the mate became captain without having the title. Dougie also lost much of his ability to get his prick up so I started to fuck with the mate. Inevitably we were caught. We thought he was in a drunken sleep when he burst into the mate’s cabin. He was staggering pretty much so we were able to avoid him and get on to the open deck. There was a fair breeze that night too and we were heeled over so the lee scuppers were only just above the water. Jock leaned against the lee rail and held on to the ratlines. Doug rushed and slid over the slanted deck and swung a terrific fist at Jock’s face. Jock was quick though and Doug, already unsteady on his feet, went over the side and that was the last I, or anyone else saw of him. The few of the crew who saw it, all swore Dougie was drunk and slid on the wet deck and went straight over the side. I didn’t mourn him much and Jock took over the captain’s job, his cabin and me as his woman! I probably would have still been with him had he not been knifed in a pub brawl here a few weeks ago. Some of the crew decided I was unlucky as both my men had been killed and didn’t want me on the ship so they left me here with my few possessions still on the brig."
Next day, attired in men’s gear and her hair in a seaman’s ponytail, she started work with Percy but there always seemed a good deal of resentment on his part to having a woman as his labourer. I cautioned him not to roger her. Although the good doctor had said she appeared free of infection, he said to wait a month and he would return and check her again, as the infection might be recent and not yet show any signs. This precluded my using her at the Saturday do’s.
It was about a month later that an incident occurred that changed the relationship between the two. The river had been running high and floodwater was washing away part of our garden. To stem the erosion, I ordered a tumbrel of sand and two gross of sacks. The nearest we could get the sand to the site was a hundreds yards distant so the pair filled the sand bags at the heap and when enough had been done to start closing the breach, Percy tucked one under each arm and walked to the river. Dilly did the same and overtook him. It became a silent competition between them. Both could have used the barrow and carted more at a time but for some reason they had decided on this test of strengths.
Percy then put two under each arm and staggered down the garden. Dilly did likewise and kept pace with him. On the second trip with two under each arm, Percy cried out and dropped his load and lay moaning in the wet grass. "My bloody back’s gone," he muttered. Without further ado, Dilly put the man over her shoulders and carried him through the back door into the kitchen. Sitting him on the table, she removed his boots and hers and then carried him to her room. Percy still screamed abuse at her for causing more pain to his back but she disregarded it and called out, "Miss Alice please bring some goose grease."
"It’s swan at the moment," Alice replied, "But I expect it will be just as good." A swan had come on to our back garden a few evenings back and with no one about, Percy had broken its neck with a lump of wood and brought it to the kitchen. We’d hastily plucked and burned the feathers and Alice cooked the large bird, which made a welcome, if i*****l addition to our diet. Ironic perhaps that its juice was to help ease the pain of the one who killed it.
When we arrived at the bedroom, Dilly was expertly divesting Percy of his clothing and soon had him laid out at full stretch and face down on the bed. Alice handed her the dripping and Dilly spread a liberal amount over his back. Percy still groaned in agony but his partner just told him to keep still. Dilly climbed on the bed and kneeling, straddled him with her legs. Charlotte quipped, "You need him the other way up to get your..." She was silenced by Dilly’s, "Shut your mouth slut." Before I could reprimand her for her language, she turned angrily to all of us, "If you are going to watch, do so in silence! I need to feel his bones and hear what I am doing, not your stupid comments!" I think her words took us all aback and we kept quiet while she started at the base of his spine and massaged each of his vertebrae. At about the third one we all heard a click and then a scream from Percy.
"Got it!," Dilly exclaimed, "You’ll be alright now Percy boy but you’re going to have to rest for a few days." She went on to check the rest of the spine but they seemed fine. Later she explained that it was not an uncommon problem on sailing ships where the men had to twist themselves and pull ropes or move cargo at awkward angles.
Percy slept in her bed for two nights before she allowed him up and we heard her rogering him on his last morning in bed. Milly peeped in and told everyone that Dilly was on top and doing the work but Percy wasn’t minding. From then on, the pair worked more as a team. I have to admit, and so does Percy, she works very well in the garden and does an equal amount of work to him. I’m sure his prick is inside her quite frequently now especially when the inclement weather confines them to the potting shed.’