Sherlock Holmes and the case of the Virgin Bride
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Captain Hirst's Virgin Bride free porn video
The room was suddenly silent, all hinged upon the turn of a card. Lord Cashmire watched intently as I turned over my last card. An Ace.
The colour drained from his face.
“But you were bluffing, the nerve on your neck” he stammered.
“Nerves my Lord,” I assured him, “Just nerves, you may well have had a superior hand.
“My God Cashers, you’ve lost it all!” Bunty Buntingthorpe exclaimed.
I looked around as Mallinson acting as server, or Croupier as the frenchies have it, pushed the immense pile of chips and Cashmire’s note towards me. I was not particularly excited, I just wanted to teach the old fool a lesson.
“Good God Cashers,” Lord Althwaite chipped in, “You just bet your estate and lost!”
“He cheated!” Cashmire protested, “His neck!”
“Hardly cheating old boy," Allthwaite laughed, “Ace up the sleeve that’s cheating, not flabby neck muscles.”
“I demand the opportunity to win it back!” Cashmire blustered.
“Indeed, what did you wish to wager?” I ventured.
“Your daughter, all five maybe?” Bunty suggested.
“Yes, may daughter’s honour against the estate!” he insisted.
I concurred. He lost. Again. He fainted. I bade my friends good bye and retired to my lodgings.
Bunty roused me next day. He insisted I went to Cashmire Park forthwith to claim my prize.
I concurred. We arrived at noon. Lord Cashmire greeted us. “So which one will you choose?”
He took us to the withdrawing room.
“I am afraid in addition to losing my estate in a game of Poker last evening I also wagered my daughters honour,” He explained, “ I did not specify which daughter so Captain Hirst has come to choose.”
“Ah, My Lord, “We came to discuss the matter,” I explained.
“So choose,” he ordered waving his arm at a panoply of daughters.
“I am spoken for,” said the eldest, “As am I” said another. One by one they cast their eyes down. The youngest held my stare. “I am not of age!” she said firmly.
“Your name?” I asked.
“Amelia!” she replied.
“And shall you be of age three years hence when I return from India?” I asked.
“Of course,” she snapped her eyes blazing.
“Then I shall choose you my dear,” I averred, “We shall wed on my return and take your honour, until then I shall entrust the management of my estate to your capable hands.”
“You shall never take my honour!” she railed.
I bade them farewell. Three years hence they would have forgotten me.
We embarked for India the day after the next, and I did not return for three long and bloody years.
Our battle weary regiment landed at Portsmouth three years and eight months to the day after departing. I had much to do. Our officer corps decimated by the savages of the Khyber pass and the malarious infections and illnesses which abound in that god forsaken land.
I went as Captain and returned as substantive Colonel, surely to return to the rank of Major when the war office became aware of my field promotion.
It was Bunty who reminded me of Lord Cashmire and the estate. Bunty at my side throughout the campaign, a true friend.
We went to Cashmire Park a few days after landing. Bunty professed a liking for Cashmire’s second youngest so we went in high spirits.
Lord Cashmire met us. Bent and bleary eyed. He was completely befuddled. Lady Cashmire had to speak for him.
”I should apologise for my husband Captain,” she said levelly, ”But I shall not for he is a broken man.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” I replied.
“Are you, it is entirely your fault!” she snapped.
“Look, My Lady, I came to resolve the matter, I never sought to take your estates.” I explained, “Just teach the lesson of the evil of gambling.”
“Well tell that to Amelia. She is ruined and My husband is a broken man, broken Captain.” she protested.
“So where shall I find Ameila?” I enquired.
“Somewhere you shall never find her,” she told us bluntly. “As soon as she knew you were home she determined that you should never take her honour.”
“But where, a Monastery?" I queried
“No Captain, sadly not,” his Lordship said sadly, ”She now resides in a bawdy house near Portsmouth Dockyard.”
“What, what are your saying?” I demanded.
“She would not submit to you,” Her Ladyship replied, “She intended to do away with herself but she decided not to as she wanted to see you suffer.”
I sat down without being asked, “Good god, I never meant, I mean, perhaps I would have wooed her but I would never have taken, you know, forced..”
“Well you should have told her that!” Lady Cashmire insisted.
It was awful, “Where will I find her?” I asked
“The Agamemnon, near the waterfront,” Lord Cashmire informed me, “She says she likes it very much.”
I felt sick.
We made our escape. We returned to Portsmouth to seek Amelia. We knew of the Agamemnon, it was infamous, it was named after a 64 gun Man o War to attract sailors.
We found it easily. A large rather shabby building near the naval dockyard gates and despite the hour, not yet 5 of the clock was already filled with drunken sailors and base whores.
We went in, “Shouldn’t go in there sirs,” the doorman insisted, “Ain’t no respect for officers in there sirs.”
“I thank you but I have business with a lady!” I insisted.
“Ain’t no Ladies in here sirs, only Oars.” he said, “But don’t let me stand between thee and thee pleasure.”
We entered the darkness. sailors sat on benches quenching their thirst with watery beer instead of their usual lime juice and grog. Ladies if such term could be applied to base women, raised their skirts for a few coins to show their bared loins and let the men paw at their private parts.
A bawdy kiss on the lips, a quiet word and a lucky sailor would whisk a wench away up the stairs to some private place of some such. Sometimes a group of sailors would take a giggling wench up the stairs with them.
A wench looked up from her companions, “Oh look, an Officer!” she laughed, “And what do you want sir! Poke a wench up the ass like thee does thee batman I’ll wager!”
“Insolent wench, I would no more poke a batman than put my member in a pythons mouth,” I averred, “I seek Amelia!”
“Oh god,” she said. “Oh my lord, You’re that Captain aint you?” she gasped, “She said you was evil and ugly like a monster and a donkey, but you ent, are you?”
“You know her?” I demanded, She nodded. “Then take me to her!” I demanded.
“Look she went up not ten minutes since,” she said, “With some sailors.”
“Take me to her I say,” I demanded. she demurred. I gave her a silver coin, she gave it back.
“I’ll show you where," she ordered, “Follow me, just give me tuppence for my trouble.”
I did as she said. I followed her up the stairs, past rooms where the sounds of passion resonated and reverberated through the ill fitttng doors, along filthy stained corridors of creaking floorboards and up again to smaller meaner rooms.
Our guide opened a door. The small cramped room was filled with sailors. The ceiling sloped down along one side where the room was set against the roof. An Iron bedstead took much of the space and a young girl with blonde hair lay on the filthy stained mattress. Her short once white smock was up around her waist and down around her waist revealing her mounds upon which two sailors were sucking while a third had his member firmly embedded in the girls innards, and endeavouring to force it even further in.
I was shocked that Amelia could come to this.
“Oops sorry, wrong one!” our guide simpered.
The next room was similar. The ceiling again sloped down, an iron bed with stained mattress near filled what had been a servant’s room and sailors near filled the surplus space. This time the wench was kneeling over the bed with just one sailor serving her with his member rammed firmly up her backside.
“Ohh, Sorry,” our wench said awkwardly, “Must be the next one.”
It was not, we moved on until finally a door opened.
I stood in utter disbelief. The room was the same as the others but the wench was not abed. She was between two sailors. Her legs and arms wrapped around one lucky chap upon whose member she was clearly impaled while his shipmate standing behind her clearly had his member forced deep into her backside. She was laughing. Her teeth dazzling white, her golden hair swirling, her mounds were crushed against the sailor’s chest as apart from her stockings she was completely naked.
She looked at me, “Hello John, are you next?” she asked.
My knees buckled, “No, Yes,” I blustered.
“Then wait outside if you please, I have gentlemen to pleasure, and they have me to please!” She grasped the sailor more firmly and thrust against him even more forcefully, forcing him ever deeper, “Give it to me,” she husked, “You know you want to.”
Her eyes widened as the sailor reached the point of release and as he did so she contrived to kiss him full on the lips yet somehow she still managed to stare at me.
I stood in the doorway transfixed. “I expect they will change ends next,” my wench said, “Shall I suckle your member to make you nice and stiff ready for when she’s free?”
“Ah, no I thank you,” I said sincerely for my sap was already fully risen.
“Ohhh, I see you are a big boy aren’t you,” she giggled, “You’ll burst your breeches if you don’t get relief soon!”
“I can’t understand,” I confessed. My wench closed the door. There was a small wooden bench. We sat together.
“See there’s women and there’s women,” she explained, “Some likes a good seeing to and some don’t, some pretends to like a good seeing to but don’t and some pretends not and grows bitter when they don’t get enough.”
“What are you blabbering about?” I demanded.
“Well Amelia’s like me, I can’t get enough and nor can she,” the wench said, “I just wish all me gentlemen was gentlemen,” she added philosophically.
We waited patiently. One of the bar men appeared, he opened Amelia’s door. “Time’s up you’re wanted down stairs in number four for a special,” he announced.
Amelia had pulled a gown around herself when she emerged, “You’ll have to wait, why not come and watch, you might like it,” she explained.
I followed her, the wench came as well, “I better look after you,” she said helpfully, “You might need some relief!”
Amelia disappeared through a door, “Can’t go in there, come with me to the spy hole,” my wench suggested.
I did as she said, A door led to a narrow darkened corridor with small spy holes discreetly cut into the walls. “It usually costs tuppence,” she added.
The room was bare. The floor oil cloth which was freshly cleaned. Seven or eight men waited there. Amelia entered. She wore one of her old dresses. she looked every inch a lady except the cleavage was so low her breasts were completely bare and the front was cut away to show her slot and mound.
“Who’s first?” she asked.
She chose. She slipped off his belt, lowered his breeches and started to suckle his member, another loosened his breeches and she grasped it with her left hand then a third loosened his and she grasped him with her right hand.
Then the other men dropped their breeches also, not only dropped but dropped to the floor and kicked off. Amelia changed gentlemen. suckling and caressing different men till all their members were rock hard and then with them all clustered around she tipped them over the edge, their seed splashing her face, her eyes, her dress everywhere. Even her belly from where she scooped it up and forced it up her slot. I felt her stare boring into me.
The men dressed, wiped themselves upon her dress and left the room.
“Did you like that John?” Amelia asked as she stared at my spy hole. “Did Josie relieve you while you watched?”
“No,” I replied, my voice breaking.
“Then come in and let me relieve you,” she offered.
“I just want to talk.” I explained.
“I know, and you find it so much easier when you have six inches of solid cock up inside me,” she said knowingly, “You men are all alike.”
My wench Josie helped me to slide out of the narrow corridor and make my way to where Amelia waited.
She smiled, she slipped off her robes and stood before me posing provocatively, “Get your member out then,” she ordered, “Or do you want to foul your breeches?”
“I want to talk,” I said feebly.
I stood there uselessly. My wench unbuttoned my breeches. My member already stiffened strained at her touch.
Amelia laughed at me. “Oh my lord, is that all you have.”
The wench responded, “Its a nice cock,” she said as she stroked me.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” I said earnestly, “I meant to woo you and if you did not respond I would.”
“You didn’t think beyond my falling madly in love with you did you?” Amelia challenged.
“I hoped,” I replied.
“Well I decided you should not have my honour,” she laughed, “So I sneaked away and arranged for Madame to sell my honour to the highest bidder.”
“She liked it, she liked it a lot," My wench added.
“I like it,” Amelia admitted, “I love the feel of a solid member pressing and pulsating and the pleasure it affords the gentleman.” She lay back and spread her legs wide before opening the lips to her womb to afford me a view right into her innards, “And I know just how desperate you are to stick your member deep inside me, but, John,” she said. “You may not, I forbid it!” and she laughed.
My wench gently stroked my member. He was already weeping some lubricant. Amelia raised herself up and cupped her breasts forming a channel.
“How would you like to put your thingy up between my boobies and shoot cream all over me?" she taunted.
My wench squeezed my balls. My member erupted. My love cream splattered over Amelia’s leg. My wench wiped it onto her finger and in turn she wiped her fingers inside Amelia’s parts.
“Hey!” Amelia protested unconvincingly, but the deed was done.
I felt deflated.
“I wanted to woo you,” I repeated, “I never thought.”
“Liar you wanted to ravish me,” Amelia said, “You wanted a shy retiring virgin so she would never know how inadequate your member is.”
“Oh think as you damned well like,” I muttered, “You are a base whore, and it’s all my fault.” Something damp fell onto my bare leg. I realised I was crying.
The wench held me near, “Its all right sir,” she said, “Amelia is a whore sir, you could never have made her happy with your modest manhood.”
“But had she remained chaste she would never have known,” I blustered.
“And had you not behaved so abysmally I would never have known,” Amelia said, “Never eve have known the thrill of making a gentleman spill his seed before he even mounts me, or have two members inside me at one time, or have one man after another queue to mount me.”
I sobbed.
“Are you a Gentleman who wishes to be humiliated?” Amelia asked, “Who likes the cat o nine tails across his bare ass? Some do. They pay very well. Do you know I could do you a special rate, tie you to the bed and leave you to starve while the rats eat your toes and.”
“Enough!” I protested. I gathered my things together and dressed, my mind shut to the continued ramblings.
“You should have come as soon as you docked,” Amelia insisted. “Before I saw my vocation.”
“I will throw your entire family in the gutter,” I snapped.
“Oh good, send my younger sisters to me,” Amelia suggested, whether in jest or seriousness I knew not, “But not the older ones for they are far too ugly to attract a man, send them to the workhouse with mother and father.”
“I thank you for your sound advice,” I replied.
“And don’t give the staff references,” Amelia added, “ If I am a whore there is no reason in the world they should have a superior station.”
“Then I bid you good day,” I insisted, and checking my attire was correctly adjusted I took my leave.
“She will come round,” the wench said hopefully.
“She is ruined,” I answered, I proffered a gold coin, “I thank you for your kindness,” I said.
“I am always here if you need me,” she said sadly. “Goodbye.”
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Mckenna
- 23.10.2021
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