Becca s Story
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Becca: Life SentenceChapter 2 free porn video
CHARACTERS:
Becca Cobbler ... Twenty year old female lead character
Bit Players ... Characters, all over eighteen, who come and go as the story progresses
The long, closed coach ride to the coast was almost the death of me. Even with the curtains closed, the dust of the road rolled in and nearly choked me. My abuse by the Dungeon Master was followed only a few hours later by the use and abuse of Lord Dunnington and left me with painful weals from the whip and torn, abused pudenda--ah, unh, cunt parts. The bouncing ride on the rough dirt track of road was nigh on to unendurable.
True to Sheenan's predictions, I was on the first leg of my journey to Granada, Spain via the seaport of Ipswich in County Suffolk. That's north and east of my home village in the vicinity of where the North Sea becomes the English Channel. It would be a lengthy sea voyage through the Channel, around the coast of Spain and into the Mediterranean Sea, or so I was told. I didn't relish being confined aboard a small ship that long with a bunch of horny sailors.
My guards, three more ruffians I hadn't seen before, never let me out of their sight, in or out of the coach on the way to Ipswich. The four of us were the only passengers. Also, there was the little matter of my sore body and its other needs.
My whip cuts and torn pudenda began to bleed off and on, requiring at least some attention. I just had to sit in bloody clothing until our night stop where I could get at least some privacy to tend to my wounds. Considering my destination and purpose in life, I was surprised to have such damage inflicted on me.
Beginning with the first day, I was taken to the coach, heavily veiled and covered, before daylight. We traveled for nearly four hours before stopping at what had to be pre-planned and out-of-the-way places for an hour to eat a sparse offering of food and drink and to take care of bodily needs.
It is well that we did not get much to drink, dust or no dust, as on the ride, I either had to hold a full bladder until the next stop, or wet myself. To pee, or otherwise attend to myself at our rest stops, I was locked into a small, windowless room with a chamber pot.
The journey would last two nights, two days, and most of a third before we reached Ipswich and the waiting ship docked in the harbor. During those two nights, each of my three guards, somehow knowing I wasn't a virgin, tried to molest me.
Lunkhead number one tried during the midnight hour of the first night. The door of my tiny and windowless room was barred from the outside. The guards, or anyone else, had access to me if and when they wanted.
When the brute stepped into my room, I was naked, tending to my wounds, not expecting any visitors by that time. Silly me. He had entered the room, his codpiece already out of the way and his naked pud bobbing in full erection. It wasn't all that small either.
But I'd suffered enough abuse. Seeing my nakedness, he leered at me and came straight for me. I had a hairbrush in my hand when he got to me. When brush met pud, he led out an agonizing howl. I followed with a swift kick where it would do the most good, the top of my bare foot making the connection. He dropped to the floor in real agony then.
"You've had your look and that's all you're going to get. Now get out, fast."
He was slow to move until I stood over him and raised the brush again, obviously aiming once again for his manhood. He moved and rather quickly for the state he was in. I heard the bar drop on the other side of the door.
The second guard tried his luck two hours later. I let him approach my cot and he made the mistake of aiming his naked pud for my mouth. Reluctantly, I allowed the bulbous head of his pud to enter my mouth. Then I bit down fairly hard with my teeth. I think I nearly severed his pud. He screamed and ran for his life. He even failed to shut, let alone bar the door, but I knew I stood no chance of running.
I never saw him again. The third guard never even tried.
As it was still daylight when we arrived at Ipswich, the driver took a side path off the main track that brought us to a small, secluded hovel deep in the woods, still some distance from the seaport. The two ruffians left to guard me had been leering at me on the rest of the trip since that first night, but they kept their distance.
We disembarked the coach and, as usual, I was roughly handled as I was shoved through the low doorway of the dirty little hut. I think the thug that had not made a try for me was sorely tempted, but one scowl from me scared him off. I was left to myself in peace until just before sunset.
At that time, I was collected and loaded in the coach again. I learned that the evening high tide would crest in just under two hours. We headed for the ship. Once at the dock, my two guards were evidently done with their job as I was turned over to one of the sailors from the ship who was waiting for us at the foot of the landing stage.
The ship was a large, British merchantman. After a creepy climb up the loading stage, I was escorted to a cabin and found two other female prisoners already occupying the space. Strung across the relatively small space where three hammocks, our home for the next several weeks or more the journey would require.
Chatting with the other two women made time pass quickly. I discovered that both of them, Ruth and Anne, were virgins. That complicated things a bit. Also, both of them were younger than I. Both girls were eighteen. That made it even worse.
The sudden clanging of the ship's bell was followed minutes later by movement that indicated the ship was underway. The North Sea was unusually quiet, so we heard. But, unfortunately, the Channel wasn't. Most of that passage was spent in rough seas and the other two women were seasick most of that time. For some reason, I escaped that particular malady.
However, it only required one visit from a sailor for me to learn to pretend to be sick whenever there was a knock on the door. I had the hammock on the opposite side of the room from the cabin door, up against the side of the ship. That saved me the first time.
In the wee hours of that first night at sea, one of those sailors came in the door and grabbed Ruth in the first hammock by her breasts. His reward was Ruth's supper vomited all over his face and chest. That ended the male attention for as long as the seasickness lasted.
Once we exited the Channel and sailed down the coast of France on our way to the Spanish coast, the sea smoothed out considerably. As soon as we entered the calmer sea, we got a visit from the First Mate.
He was blunt and to the point.
"All right, my pets, listen carefully. On pain of death, the Captain has ordered the two younger lasses to remain unmolested virgins that they are. They must arrive at their destination intact, as it were. Too much money has changed hands to guarantee it."
"So what are you getting at?" I asked, as if I didn't know or at least suspect.
"It is known that you are not a virgin, lass. And it will be a long enough voyage."
"So I'm to be the sailors' whore, then?"
"The Captain sees no other choice what with three women on board for a long voyage with lusty sailor men."
"I see. Mine is a throw away status then?"
"Not if you willingly participate, or at least do not offer resistance to the proceedings."
"I have no choice then?"
"Not anymore than you have ever had since your, uh, capture. One way or the other, consent or not, the crew will have access to you. You might just as well enjoy it as much as you can to save serious brutalization that might cost you your life either here on ship or when you reach your destination as devalued and useless merchandise."
"That's all we women are now, merchandise, yes?"
"I'm afraid so, lass."
After s moment's thought, I said, "All right, I'll go willingly with one condition."
"You aren't in a position to demand conditions."
"Yes, I am. I could take my own life. Then where would you be?"
"So, what is your condition?"
"Simply--no more than three men per night. You work out the schedule. With that condition met, I'll give them a good ride."
"Done!"
The Mate turned on his heel and left. The other two women were in tears. They apologized for what I had to do and generally tried to commiserate with me.
"Girls, it's no one's fault. It is the lot of women in this world to be at the beck and call, not to mention mercy, of the men of this world. Where you are headed, you will eventually be in a similar predicament--living in the harem of some eastern potentate and servicing his sexual desires, especially your deflowering."
That made them bawl all the more. Reality girls, reality.
Later that evening, shortly after full dark, the Mate came to the door and escorted me to a small store room one deck lower. A young seaman apprentice was waiting for me. Maybe the Mate did this on purpose for the first one. This one was more scared than I was.
I shed my clothes and let him have a good look at me as I turned in a slow circle and stopped facing him again. He stood transfixed and trembling. Some sailor. But that would change over time.
"Come here, uh..."
"Uh, Jack," he croaked.
"Jack, then. Come here and give me your hand."
I placed one on my breast and the other on my pu, uh, my cunt.
"Rub my tit, Jack, play with the nipple. Use your fingers and thumb."
He did, rather clumsily, but he got better.
"Stroke between my legs with your other hand, Jack. Run your middle finger right down my slit as you rub the outside lips. Yes, like that. Rub the bump at the top of my slit once in a while when you are up top there. Ahhh, yes, like that."
I pulled his cod piece away and reached for his pu ... ah, cock. He was already hard, so I stroked him a few times before my next instructions. I could tell I had to get him in me quickly before he squirted. After all, I wanted something out of this encounter.
I leaned against a wall, bulkhead as I was later corrected, and pulled him by his cock into position. I got him aimed correctly and told him to push. I was wet enough that he slid right in to his balls. He jerked in surprise.
"Your fist time, sailor?"
"Uh, uh, I..."
"It's ok, sailor, everybody has to have a first time. Enjoy your ride." So that was the Mates game, was it.
It only took him four strokes and he shot off.
"Good job, sailor, now that you've had your 'baptism, ' you'll know what to do the next time."
"Yeah," he managed to croak as he stuffed his cock back in his pants and replaced his cod piece.
Fifteen minutes later, a second sailor came through the door. This one was older and grizzled--a long time salt. He was a lot more brutal. Good thing I was still wet and still had cum in me from the first one because he just bared his cock and came at me and shoved it in with no preliminaries. He pumped wildly and viscously until he shot his juice to mix with the remnants of the young sailor.
It was a real, 'wham-bam-thank you Ma'am' kind of fuck. After unloading, he pulled out with a loud pop, and forced my head down to lick and suck him clean. That done, he quickly put his cock away and went out the door.
Twenty minutes the last one showed up for sloppy thirds. He was indifferent which made me indifferent. He did a serviceable job, shot his load into me and left. So passed the first night.
With some variations, so passed the remaining nights until we sailed into port at Grenada.
The days we women spent on deck when possible to watch the sea and any other sights that were available. We were allowed to take salt water baths on deck as often as once a day, if we chose. Doing so, we provided entertainment for the crew. We were provided with a curtain, but it was sheer enough to show a bit more than our silhouettes as we bathed.
Besides, crewman had to hold the curtain crewmen held the buckets that were dumped over our heads. The rigging also held far more crew than were needed during our bathing. We women sort of got into it and really did a tease with our shower time. Getting the crew that aroused and horny made it rougher on me at night though. Some of those sailors were really aggressive by the time they unlimbered their cocks with me.
We women enjoyed sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar and watching the big rock pass by. The Mediterranean was considerably more moderate and warm than was the Atlantic. We enjoyed the sun. It was a short sail from there to the port that serviced Granada, but another long coach ride inland from there to the city of Granada itself.
GRENADA
Granada was beautiful. The Moorish countryside and cities were so much cleaner than any comparable European city in England or on the continent. Clean streets, running water, artful landscaping of gardens and courtyards, wonderful colors and geometric designs in the architecture of all the buildings were the rule, not the exception.
But above all, the basis was CLEAN, both the people and their possessions. I would also quickly learn that Moorish medicine was superior, far superior to anything anywhere in Europe. So was science, math, and a lot of other things for that matter. Whether their religion was superior or not, I didn't really know, but it certainly was different than what I had known.
I found out about the medicine right away. A Moorish doctor soon healed up the shallow cuts made by the lash of the Dungeon Master so that only minute, but still visible scars were left. My Vaginal sores and such from the abuse I suffered were also treated and quickly healed. This was right after I was settled in. It definitely was this Moorish medicine that enabled me to live to my current advanced age. That would have never happened in England. I'd likely have died by the age of forty had I lived out my life there.
Unfortunately, Ruth and Anne journey further east. Let me tell you first about my experience settling into the Alhambra Palace. It was actually a palace and fortress complex, consisting of three parts made up of a number of buildings and a main defense fortress.
The royal palace is one of those three parts. The Mexuar was the part of the palace in which the sultan conducted everyday administration and business. I did not get to see this section for a very long time and then not often.
A second part of the palace was the Serallo. This was a selection of very attractive rooms and courtyards for important persons, be they family or guests. One of the most important areas in this part of the complex was the Hall of the Ambassadors, which is the largest and one of the finest rooms in the palace. Needless to say, I didn't get in there either.
Where I settled in was another part of the palace complex, the Harem. That is where I lived for many years. I will return to this area in a moment.
The third major complex of the Alhambra consisted of the Gardens of Generalife. The inspiration for the Garden was said to be nothing less than the Koranic description of paradise. Running water and plenty of shaded areas together with fresh plants of all sorts; there was nothing that appealed more to the rulers of Granada, who never forgot their historic past of the hot desert.
And then there is the final part of the complex, Alcazaba--the fortress. It was separated from the other portions of the Royal palace by a deep ravine. For centuries, it served as a defensive point during times of war. I never entered the place. I learned all of this as part of my ongoing training, the educational and history part.
But back to my abode, the Harem. This was a place--an area if you will--of the palace consisting of a group of beautiful rooms and one bath. The bath was of course, one big room consisting of one big bathing pool and reclining areas around it. This was the quarters for the women of a Moslem household, be it a rude village structure or, as in this case, the palace of a SultanFor the wealthy who could afford it, such as royalty, the Harem consisted of the combined households of the Royal Mother (Valide Sultan), The Sultan's favorite wives or not, and the rest of the concubines. The Harem also contained the households of all the daughters (Sultanas).
The order of rank from bottom to top in the Harem was: odalisques or virgin servants, concubines or one night stands who would usually never see the Sultan again, Ikbals or favorites of the Sultan, and Kadins or favorite wives. At the very top were the Sultanas and the Valide Sultan herself.
This was half of the Harem hierarchy.
The other half of the Harem hierarchy were the guardian eunuchs. These were castrated males and thus deemed less than men and therefore, not threat to the women residents.
With so many women in residence, few ever got to actually see the Sultan at all and only a very few of the total ever saw his bed. Many would spend their lives as odalisques or slave servants to the household of the Harem or be given to a favored male of the Sultan to fill the same position in the favorites household. Odalisque was my status when I arrived.
Upon my arrival, I was soon ushered into the presence of the Valide Sultan (Mother of the Sultan) by one of the Harem eunuchs. I had already received basic etiquette training back in England and knew to follow the eunuch and keep my eyes downcast in his or any other male presence and of any female superior to me.
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