Mary's Unexpected Journey
Author's note: This is a story, and the author is aware that it is not 100% historically accurate, although efforts have been made to ensure some degree of realism. It is a work of fiction, however, and intended to be no more than that.
Mary's Unexpected Journey
“MORE ALE, WENCH, MORE ALE!” the man cried, slamming his empty tankard on the wooden table, causing the flame from the candle in the centre to flicker. He and his three companions guffawed loudly and joined in a chorus of shouts for more, laughing, stamping their feet on the flagstones and banging their own tankards.
With a benign smile, Mary filled two pitchers of ale from the barrel of beer behind the bar counter and then, ducking under the oil-lamps that illuminated the bar, approached the men sitting at their table at the far side of the room.
Although they were getting a bit rowdy that was nothing unexpected – many sailors visited the port of Dartmouth, its deep-water tidal estuary and high valley sides were the perfect shelter for all sizes of ships. These men were no exception, hardened seamen each and, typical of sailors ashore, drinking heavily.
However, they had good humour, and tipped well. Mary was pleased to serve them, as she was most matelows, as her weekly wage of two shillings was paltry. Tips from wealthy customers could sometimes add several farthings to her pay.
Mary had learned that if she wore the top of her blouse pulled low, and strapped her corset tightly, that men loved to look down the valley formed by the gap between her generous bosom. Such men as those were inclined to tip more, and more often.
Mary was glad of her underbust corset, the only item of undergarments that she possessed. It held in her rounded tummy, and pushed up her breasts, giving her close to the figure she longed for, like the daguerreotypes of rich and regal ladies from London which hung in the foyer of the town hall.
How Mary wished that one day she might visit London, its glamour and mystique seemed a life removed from that of a poor orphan girl in a small Devon town. Perhaps she might even go to a theatre to watch a play by the man they called The Bard, who had died just a few years earlier.
At twenty, Mary was as old as the century itself. Her father, a Royal Navy bosun, had died at sea when she was aged two, in a skirmish with a vessel of the Spanish navy, and her mother had succumbed to smallpox four years later.
Her upbringing in the Orphanage of Saint Saviour's had been austere and bleak, gruelling physical work and harsh treatment. Memories of being awoken early on chilly winter mornings, washing in cold water, dressing in the dark then walking across to the adjacent Church of Saint Saviour's in order to clean and polish the ornate ironwork door, or dusting the interiors and seeing to the rood screen within came back to her mind.
Mary was slightly less unfortunate than some of the other children as an endowment, a legacy of her father's death in the service of the King, ensured that she received more substantial meals than otherwise, although she often gave some of her food away to other children who remained hungry even after the daily supper of vegetable broth and bread.
Beatings with a stick or belt were not uncommon, for girls as well as boys, although Mary often escaped punishment due to her capacity for hard graft and an aptitude for school lessons, a determination to one day escape her poverty driving her on.
She had proved an able and eager pupil in the classroom, learning her numbers by the age of nine, and her letters by thirteen.
Mary was shaken from her reverie as she reached the table, and began pouring ale from her pitchers into the tankards of the waiting sailors. Their speech was coarse but good-natured, bantering with the young woman.
“Har har har, lovely pair of jugs!” said one, chuckling heartily.
“Arr, I do keep thinking of peaches for some reason!” said another.
One of the men grabbed Mary’s buttocks through the pleats of her skirt as she bent forward, grasping tightly.
“OUCH!” exclaimed Mary, standing upright “Unhand me, sir, you cad!” she admonished, although she giggled coquettishly as she did so, well used to men pawing or groping at her.
The sailors all laughed loudly.
The men had already tipped her a penny each, a day's wages for a young barmaid, and she well knew that plenty of flirting would earn her more besides.
Most of the other customers had slipped quietly into the darkness of a Saturday night, the locals only too aware that bibulous seamen were best avoided, and although these were private merchantmen rather than Royal Navy sailors they could still cause trouble later.
Old Joe, who ran the inn looked over from his position behind the bar and rolled his eyes. Outwardly he tried to affect an air of disapproval of his barmaid's flirting but he knew that it was good for business, and usually prevented drunken mariners from causing damage in the bar.
Mary had worked for him for five years now, and had been one of the best girls he had employed in his score of years running the inn known as The Carv'd Angel. As Mary returned to the bar he heard the men shout once more.
“Landlord! Landlord!” they cried. One spoke up above the others.
“Some Marc, Landlord, some Marc!” he hollered.
Joe took a key from the pocket of his britches, opened a wooden cabinet on the back of the bar, and removed a bottle of pomace brandy. Pouring the clear liquid into four glasses he placed them upon a tray. Mary carried the tray to the table and set the glasses before the men. One called out to the innkeeper.
“Landlord! Another glass, if thee will!”
Affecting an air of puzzlement, Joe poured another measure and placed it on the bar. Mary took it to the table and set it down, but the men clamoured for her to drink it herself.
She glanced at Joe, who gave a tacit nod. It was nearing the end of the night, and if the men were prepared to spend even more money on expensive spirits in order to give them away then that was fine with him.
Mary lowered her face, cocked her head to one side and turned her eyes innocently upwards “Art thee tempting me with strong liquor, sire?” she asked, although the thin line of a smile on her face belied her naïve words.
The men guffawed once more, clapping loudly. One said “Arr, a lass such as thee, I daresay ye could ne'er handle strong drink, eh?” challenging her to consume the drink.
“Oh no?” said Mary, with an air of mock defiance. Picking up the glass she took a deep breath and raised the glass to her lips, tipping the liquid into her mouth and gulped it down in one.
Uproar followed from the four men, cheers and catcalls rang out, and they capered in their seats like tethered dancing bears.
“Ha ha! She swallows well!” one spluttered, to a peal of laughter. “Barkeep, five more if you will!”
Joe brought over the bottle and refilled the glasses, giving Mary a disapproving frown. Mary winked at him. He rolled his eyes once more, but gave Mary a subtle answering wink.
“Leave the bottle, landlord.” said one of the men. “And pray, let this young maid sit and take drink with us as a reward for her hard travails this eve?” He motioned for Mary to draw up a wooden seat and join them. Blushing slightly, Mary obeyed. It was a relief to sit down, having spent many hours on her feet whilst she worked, the hard wooden shoes making her feet ache, despite the cork insoles she had fashioned for them.
Now turning to his comrades the man said “Heads and tails for who doth pay?” the company nodded, each fumbling in their pockets and producing canvas pouches. They all opened them, revealing a selection of golden doubloons in each. Mary's eyes opened wide at the money, glittering even in the dim light of the inn.
One of the men passed a coin to Mary, then they each slammed a coin down on the table, keeping it covered with their hand. “Spin the coin, good lady.” said one, and Mary tossed it into the air, catching it and placing it on the table. She noticed that the coins were in fact sovereigns, golden guineas worth twenty-one shillings each.
Her coin bore the image of the king, and the men removed their hands, revealing that three of them also had Heads. These men screamed with laughter, jeering their comrade who reluctantly left his coin on the table, and added a second. Picking up the coins he launched them in an arc towards Joe who, despite his age and the dim light caught them adeptly. His eyes now opened wide as he saw what the coins actually were.
“That should cover us for the ale and brandy, doth it not?” Said the man who had paid.
Each of the two coins were easily much more than the value of the drinks they had consumed, and so Joe bowed his head politely, and graciously smiled and confirmed that indeed, it was. He returned to the bar, leaving Mary sitting with the four seafarers.
They drank another round of the brandy and introduced themselves to her; John Cooper and Gilbert Wilson, helmsmen, Richard Ward, cook and Robert Standish, bosun. They revealed that their ship, normally a cargo hauler, was currently sailing as a ferry “Carrying folk along th' coast, port to port. Not th' most excitin' o' trips as yet, but the pay is good.” said Cooper.
Mary found herself particularly attracted to Robert Standish, perhaps as his rank on the ship was the same as that of the father she could not remember, the father-figure she never had. They drank another round of spirits, emptying the bottle.
As he spoke of the ship's journeys to foreign lands Mary found herself imagining travelling the world. A pipe-dream for a poor girl such as her, but a fantasy nonetheless.
By now, three large brandies were beginning to make Mary slightly light-headed. Her head was resting on Robert's shoulder as she laid her hands gently on his arm.
Somewhat drunkenly she suddenly asked “Are there really men with black skins?”
The company laughed uproariously at her naivety. Cooper spoke “Indeed there be darkies in far-off lands, we've seen them!” he chuckled “They wear no clothes, women as w'll as men – and the men all ha' manhoods the size of your arm hanging down!” He placed the palm of his left hand in the crook of his right arm, and raised his right fist.
As the others roared with laughter Mary straightened up and gasped in mock surprise“Why sir, I'm sure I know not of what you speak!”
Wilson the cook chortled “You mean you hath never known a man? I wager that is not the case!” he said.
Mary's cheeks flushed red. Indeed she had known man. Several men in fact. Having left the orphanage at the age of fifteen she had gained lodgings with the Widow Babbacombe, an aged woman who lived alone in a large house following the death of her husband many years earlier. Old Mrs Babbacombe had taught her the secret of avoiding being with child. Her words echoed still in Mary's mind “A week from the beginning o' the curse is fine, but ne'er the two weeks hence, then the fourth week ye be good again.”
Mary had used this knowledge to great advantage in the past. Once, after a brief liaison with a handsome young boatman who worked on the riverboats she had been given passage up the river for a day out in the market town of Totnes, ten miles upstream, past the villages of Stoke Gabriel and Dittisham. It was the only time in her life Mary had ever left Dartmouth.
Her willingness to accompany a man to his bed chamber had gained her several friends among the local menfolk, although many of the town's womenfolk and clergy were less pleased.
At church on a Sunday Mary frequently overheard talk behind her back suggesting that she ought to be put in the pillory in Smith Street, and that she brought disgrace upon the town. Mary was unperturbed. After her hard upbringing she was prepared to do whatever she needed to in order to get by in life, and damn what anyone else thought.
Right now, she knew that it had been twenty-two days from the beginning of the curse, so safety was assured. She smiled, clutching once more at Standish's arm. “Mayhap I hath known of man. Mayhap I may know of him again afore this night is out.” she said, coyly.
The four hooted and whistled loudly. As the tankards and the brandy bottle were now empty, Robert suggested that they depart, and invited Mary to return with them to “visit our fair vessel for a time”
Mary agreed, and fetched her shawl from behind the bar. Old Joe shook his head at her, but gave a final conspiratorial wink before she departed.
As the five of them stumbled out into the night, past the carved cherub which stood above the doorway of the inn they looked back at the building, its black tarred oaken beams breaking up the whitewashed areas of wall. Mary blew out the lamp which hung outside the front door and wrapped her shawl close around her shoulders. Summer was nearing its end, and the threat of autumn was in the air. She heard the bolts slide shut inside the door, so she knew she was alone with the four sailors.
She had no fears though, for although mariners could be a rough lot, they were generally salt-of-the-earth types, and she felt strangely safe clutching Robert's arm. The brandy warmed her insides, causing her to stumble a little as they made their way from Higher Street down Broad Steps to the Embankment. Her shoes clattered on the wide flagstones and John Cooper seized her other arm to steady her. He maintained his grip as they descended, then they walked unsteadily past the Butterwalk along the promenade towards their ship.
All four men chattered and joked, making several lewd comments about Mary's ample assets, several of them groping her rear on occasions, causing her to giggle and eventually hiccough.
Illuminated only by the moonlight, the five made their way towards the wharf of Bayard's Cove at the far end of the embankment. As they approached the dock-master’s office at the entrance of the narrows that led to the Cove they crept quietly, not wishing to draw attention to the fact that a woman was being smuggled surreptitiously on board a vessel.
Like the Carv'd Angel, the dock-master's office was a tall Tudor building, its whitewashed walls broken up by dark tarred beams. As they neared the narrows they realised their caution was unwarranted – in an office on the ground floor a night-watchman slumbered soundly in a chair. The five of them chortled, each placing their hands on their mouths and whispering “Hushhh!” to one another.
As they came out onto Bayard's Cove itself the ship, a four-masted vessel of a good thirty yards in length could be seen at the far end of the short wharf. In the moonlight Mary read the name of the vessel, engraved upon a plaque below the captain's room in the stern of the ship.
The scent of the salt air filled Mary's nostrils as she walked along the quay.
Her feet stumbled on the cobble-stones of the cove, and she almost slipped whilst continuing to hiccough. From behind her a voice said “We'll have to cure thee of those – close your eyes!”
Mary did so, to no relevance though as from behind her a pair of hands covered her eyes. She heard muttering then a voice said softly “This'll cure thy hics, fair maiden” she suddenly gasped as a pair of hands grasped her breasts, and a pair of lips covered her own. A tongue wriggled its way into her mouth, exploring deeply. She felt the man in front of her press close, the hard lump of his manhood pressing against her belly. Behind her the man holding her eyes also pressed close, rubbing his pelvis against her rump. He too had a hard lump, pressed against her behind.
With a sudden start Mary realised that she was going to be expected to let all four men have their way with her, not just Robert as she had thought initially. The shock was more than tempered however both by the after-effects of the brandy and the feelings coursing through her body as she felt two sexually excited men gyrate against her. She could feel herself moistening inside, as she realised that she had nothing to lose. Mary had enjoyed sex with one man at a time, four would simply be four times the pleasure, and in the morning the men would sail away on the tide, probably never to be seen again in the town, so no-one would ever know what she had done.
Suddenly she was released from their grip and swept up a gang-plank onto the deck of the ship. From there she was hastened into a room at the rear of the main deck, “Steerage” she was told. In the centre of the room a wide pole protruded upwards from a hole in the deck, as tall as a man. The rear of the room was dominated by a pile of folded canvas sheets.
In the gloom someone lit an oil lamp, throwing a strange yellowy glow across the room. Robert held a finger to his lips “Quietly now, we shall not awaken our passengers, lads!” he warned.
A little nervous now, Mary turned to face the four men. In the light she could see that their eyes were fixed upon her, travelling over ever inch of her body, their lusty smiles only serving to heighten her sense of anticipation.
The smell of caulk and pitch, mixed with the reek of sweat and urine seemed to emanate from the very boards of the ship itself. Mary paused for a moment, unsure of what to do.
Suddenly Cooper spoke “Well come on then, let us see it!”
Taking a deep breath, Mary turned around,slipped off her shoes, the damp wood of the boards cool against her feet. She undid the fasteners to the side of the waist band of her skirt, and let it fall to the floor, exposing her bare flanks and rump. She stepped out of the skirt and turned back to face the four men, who had stepped forward and surrounded her.
They gaped at her hairy mound, licking their lips in anticipation.
“Titties!” said Ward excitedly“Let us see thine titties!”
Obediently, Mary crossed her arms and began to pull her blouse upwards. As she did so, her pendulous breasts swung free, propped upwards by the corset below them. Before she had even lifted the blouse off her head a pair of lips clamped down onto each of her nipples, and hands grasped at the smooth, goose-bumped white flesh exposed. She tugged the garment free, to see that it was Ward and Cooper who suckled at her breasts, their hands sliding up the inside of her thighs, stroking over her pubis, fingers running through her pubic hair.
Robert reached out for her face with both hands, pulling it towards his own, and kissing her, his tongue reaching into her mouth, probing, exploring. Behind her Wilson fondled her rear, his fingers kneading the flesh of her buttocks,his breath hot upon her shoulders as he pressed against her, his mouth kissing the nape of her neck, gnawing at her ear lobes.
Suddenly a finger slid into her wet slot, whether Cooper's or Ward's she knew not, nor cared, the tip briefly tickling her clitoris before digging deep into her. Mary let out a moan of pleasure, closing her eyes and allowing the men free reign with her body.
A second finger joined the first, the digits curving round to stroke deep within her against the front wall of the inside of her vagina, raising her pleasure further. Suddenly the fingers withdrew. Standish released her from the kiss, stepping back to watch what was happening.
Ward released her right breast from his mouth and fell to his knees. Cooper continued to suck her left breast, his left hand grasping her free nipple. The slimy feel of his fingers betrayed the fact that it had been he who had fingered her so close to an orgasm.
She gasped once more when Ward gripped her hips and pulled them firmly towards his face, burying it into her, his tongue extending to flick around her engorged clitoris. She squealed with surprise and pleasure, as no man had ever done that before – she had allowed men to place their cocks in her mouth, but had been unaware that the reverse was even possible, never mind so pleasurable. Her body quivered as he lapped away at her now dripping hole.
Cooper now lifted his mouth away from her breast, his tongue describing a line up between her breasts, both his hands now manipulating her nipples. His lips planted a line of kisses up her neck, over her chin and unto her lips, then his tongue began to explore her mouth.
Robert Standish continued to watch her, his arms now folded.
Suddenly she felt herself be dragged backwards and away from the embraces of Ward and Cooper, downwards towards the pile of canvas sails behind her. Wilson firmly pushed her down, her body flat out, him kneeling behind her head, above her face. He pulled down his trousers to his knees, his erect cock springing out. Mary knew what he expected of her, but first she spread her legs wide, raised her knees, heels on the canvas, pointed to the centre of her groin and spluttered “More, more of that my good men!”
She then tilted her head back and suppliantly opened her mouth. Wilson placed a hand under the back of her neck, lifting her head up and sliding his cock into the waiting orifice. Mary's wishes were granted as she felt a mouth apply itself to her genitals, a tongue invading her intimately.
Her own tongue worked on the member in her mouth, licking at the swollen head, before Wilson pushed down hard. Her head tilted back, Mary's throat easily accepted the intrusion, and Wilson began to slide in and out, at first slowly then quicker. Mary gasped for breath between strokes, her body wriggling with pleasure from the sensations throbbing through her body as an unknown tongue delighted her down below.
That tongue withdrew, and was quickly replaced by another, whilst coarse-skinned hands stroked and fondled her entire body, the roughness of their weathered skin contrasting with the soft, smooth skin of the young woman, the friction serving to heighten her pleasure further.
Hands stroked up and down her thighs, over her stomach and breasts. A pair of hands wriggled under her and kneaded her buttocks. Mary surrendered herself to the ecstasy of sexual contact.
Wilson's cock slid easily in and out of her mouth, one moment teasing in her mouth, its head retreating to her lips then sliding forcefully down into the top of her throat and back again. He paused, his cock in her mouth until his body suddenly stiffened. He rammed his cock down and Mary felt his cum pump into her throat. She choked, coughing as the fluid cut off her air temporarily, until the man withdrew from her. The spunk exploded back up into her mouth as she coughed, then she swallowed it down, clearing her mouth of the warm fluid, but leaving the salty tang on her tongue. The other three men gave muffled cheers, praising Mary and mocking Wilson.
“Ha! The lass takes a mouthful well, all for the good with thee, cum-quick!” one said. Even in the gloom Mary could see Wilson's face redden as she looked up at him.
She had little chance to reflect though as she felt a body climb on top of her, positioning itself between her still raised and spread legs. She looked down to see Ward, his breeches pulled to his knees, steering his hard cock towards her slit. He reached her, sliding easily into the dripping wet hole. She gasped as the cock invaded her, the hard organ filling her insides.
He began to pump her, and she responded by giving out a series of pleasured grunts with each stroke. Her noises became louder as Ward banged into her, until Cooper hastily scrambled onto the canvas alongside her. He tilted her side to the slide and pushed his hard cock into her, causing her to give a muffled squeal of pleasure.
“Hush, my beauty!” he said softly “This'll keep thee quiet, for sure”
Mary's mind began to spin – the sensations of having two cocks in her at once, knowing she was pleasing two men at the same time was both exciting and empowering. She sucked obediently at the cock, between gasps as Ward continued to hammer away at her, his hands grasping her hips, pulling them up to meet his thrusts. Her head jerked with the rhythm, causing Cooper to give out his own stifled moans of pleasure.
Her body began to quiver and her mind began to spin as the thrill rose within her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest then gave a sigh as orgasm overtook her. She could feel a rush of extra moistness within her vagina, even as the cock continued to plough into her. Her arms and legs trembled and her skin prickled with the joy of it all.
In her ecstatic state she was vaguely aware of the men speaking to each other, then she groaned as the cocks pulled out of her.
Not for long however, as she felt strong hands roll her unprotesting body over onto her front, then lift her onto all fours, her knees and elbows taking her weight.
Now, it was Ward's cock which slid into her invitingly open mouth, while Cooper took her from behind, his cock pushing its way into her vagina, burying itself deep within her. Her entire body tingled with the sensations of the orgasm still thrilling her.
With the cock in her mouth, Mary savoured the musky taste of her own juices, mixing with the flesh of Ward and the last remnants of the flavour of Wilson's spunk. Ward placed his hands upon her head and began to fuck her mouth. Her body rocked backwards and forwards, her breasts swinging to and fro with the rhythm of Cooper's thrusts from the rear. As the men synchronised their thrusts Mary felt her pleasure arise once more.
To her astonishment another orgasm ripped through her body, causing her to tremble and shake. Her mind exploded with pleasure. Mary had never experienced more than one orgasm at a time – she had not been aware that it was even possible! Her hips wriggled, grinding against Cooper, who gave an agonised grunt, then Mary felt a stream of hot cum shoot deep inside her, its warmth physical evidence of the pleasure she was giving to the men, delighting her even more.
When Cooper withdrew from her, she focussed her attention now solely on the cock filling her mouth. Mary had learned from experience how to please a man with her mouth, and she subjected Ward to the full range of her talents, reaching up with her right hand and grasping the base of the shaft, wringing her hand gently around it as she pulled her head away, then wrapped her tongue expertly around the head, using the tip of her tongue to stimulate that most sensitive area just below the base of the head, where the foreskin joins the shaft.
Ward gave out a guttural moan, then semen ejaculated powerfully from the tip, the first shot splattering against her face. Duteously opening her mouth wide, the next shot discharged directly into her mouth. She hastily placed her lips around the tip of the cock, sucking furiously as the rest of his load fired into her mouth in hot jolts, gulping it down.
When she was certain the ejaculations had ended, Mary released the member from her mouth. Cum from the first shot of Ward's orgasm was plastered around her mouth, and stuck to his pubic hair.
She extended her tongue, and licked around her lips, cleaning her upper lip with the outstretched tip. She ran two fingers through the semen-coated pubic hair, scooping off as much as she could, then sucking it off her fingers, to a ripple of approving murmurs from the men surrounding her.
Now, glancing over her shoulder she saw Robert climb onto the pile of sails behind her, pulling his breeches down to expose his stiff cock. She smiled, eager to please but the smile vanished from her lips as she felt the man steer his hard cock into the crack between her buttocks, rubbing it up and down, probing towards her anus.
“NO!” she cried “Please sire, not there, I beseech thee!” long-buried bad memories flooded into her mind of the Rector at St Saviour's who used to touch her there with his finger, before lifting his cassock and making her rub him. She shivered and, fighting against panic, attempted to wriggle free.
Robert merely laughed “Ho ho ho my pretty maid, gird yourself, t'will not pain thee, at least not after a few strokes.”
Mary struggled against him, but his strong hands grasped her hips strongly. She felt a pair of hands grip her ankles, dragging her legs further apart. A second pair of hands suddenly held her arms, pinning her in place. She heard Robert's voice once more.
“Cookie!” he commanded, “Fetch some grog and some goose grease, this one will be a tight 'un mayhap.”
“Aye, aye bosun!” responded Ward, departing the room into the darkness beyond.
Mary's heart pounded in her chest as the cock continued to rub between her buttocks, droplets of liquid dribbled from it, beginning to lubricate its passage. Suddenly Ward returned.
“Try this Rob!” he puffed, passing a wooden bowl to the bosun. Ward then grasped Mary's jaw, tilting her head back, and squeezing her mouth open. He tipped the contents of a small wooden jug into her mouth and held on, forcing her to swallow.
The bitter-sweet sting of the liquid burned down her throat and into her gut. Mary recognised the taste of Rum immediately, the harsh liquor almost instantly making her feel light-headed. Someone forced a short length of rope crossways into her mouth.
Her head began to feel light, as she swivelled it around to see Robert larding his erection with a grey slimy substance. Ward dipped his hand into the bowl and, scooping up some of the fat with his fingers began to slap it around, and then into, her tight hole. Mary's head drooped forward, hanging listlessly.
Suddenly she felt a thrust as the cock invaded her rear. Her head shot up, her eyes bulging. The sensation of the wide girth of the cock burrowing into her felt as though a fist had been stuck up into her belly, a sudden dull pain. She gasped, biting down on the piece of rope.
However, the cock retreated and the pain faded, the rum by now dulling her senses. As the cock slid in for a second time it pushed slower, easing into the orifice gently.
Mary realised that the pain was less than the first time she had been with a man, less than the curse even. The cock slid back, then slowly in again. It began to feel at first bearable, then comfortable, and finally pleasurable.
She spat out the rope. Her breath came in gasps as the cock began to thrust, picking up speed as it slid in and out of her, the goose-fat causing slurping noises as it entered her.
A hand slipped under her and a finger began to stroke her clitoris. Her trepidation turned to drunken joy as her pleasure arose. Another pair of hands massaged her breasts. As Robert increased his speed, both of his thrusts and the fingers now sliding easily through her wet slit she felt another orgasm rise up inside her, her body quivering with the sensations. She groaned as she came, the waves of pleasure rippling through her body as she felt the man shoot his hot load into her.
He withdrew, releasing her from his grasp, and she collapsed forward, panting, spent, exhausted and drunk. In a daze she felt the men thank her, and bid her goodnight. A pair of lips kissed hers, followed by her hand being lifted and kissed upon its back. A further kiss landed on her forehead.
Too exhausted even to move, Mary curled into the foetal position. Her eyes closed. As she drifted into a happy slumber she was aware of someone dragging a canvas sheet over her, covering her nearly naked body.
When Mary woke her head pounded. Her mouth was dry and her stomach queasy. Her rear ached. Her eyes hurt as shafts of light drilled into them, She closed them briefly then squinted. She was vaguely aware of two men standing with their backs to her, both of them grasping the large wooden pole in the centre of the room, one pushing agin it, the other pulling from the other side.
As the events of the previous night flooded back to her she felt a flush of shame. Realising that she wore only her corset, she tried to reach her clothes, still scattered on the deck nearby. Unable to reach she slipped as quietly as she could from under the canvas covering her. Not quietly enough, as the two men looked towards her, in all her naked glory. Mary recognised Cooper and Wilson as they smiled leeringly.
“Good morning my beauty!” said one, laughing.
Her face flushed with embarrassment, she grabbed the clothes and hastily slid back under the canvas, fumbling the garments into place. When she re-emerged she straightened her clothing and slipped her feet into her wooden shoes with some difficultly, as she was swaying, hardly able to stand straight.
Suddenly she realised that her over-indulgence was not the cause of her unsteadiness, but that the ship itself was rolling.
They were at sea! Mary gasped in fear and wonder then ran to the door, looking out to see green coastline to her right, and nothing but sea to her left.
Panic began to fill her mind. What was going to happen to her? How was she going to get home?
She ran out onto the main deck. Robert Standish was at its centre, tall and proud. Mary ran to him, grasping his arm for balance as the ship rolled again.
“Sire!” she squeaked, the panic now rising in her mind “What manner be this? Am I to be a captive?”
Robert laughed, kindly. He smiled down at her.
“We tried to wake thee, but thy slumber was too deep.” he said “We thought thy might need of sleep so we left thee there. We will find land later this day, and thee can return in a stagecoach.”
Her reply was plaintive “But how am I to return, sire? I have no manner in which to pay the fare.”
A wry grin crossed the man's face “We thought of that, pretty maid.” he said “Myself and the boys thought it only right and proper that we reward thee for being such a sport as thy was, so we gave a coin each, t'will more than carry thee home!” He handed her a small canvas purse, held tight by a drawstring.
Mary opened it and was astonished to see four golden pieces inside. Her eyes opened wide. Each coin was worth more than she earned in two months at the Angel!
Feeling of shame mixed with elation as she realised that this was the richest she had ever been, or was ever likely to be.
Robert spoke once again “We will make land in a few hours, there's sure to be a coach bound for Dartmouth. Til then if thee go see Cookie forward there,” he pointed to a door across the deck, near the bow of the ship “he'll sort a breakfast for thee.”
Mary's stomach churned from both the motion of the ship and the liquor of the night before, so she politely declined the idea of food, but went forward anyway for a drink of water for her parched mouth.
When she reached the galley, Ward grinned at her, a knowing smile combining with a lecherous leer. Blushing, Mary asked for some water, which she drank. Not knowing what to do next she went out on deck, breathing in the clear sea air. Some of the passengers were up on deck now, taking in the airs themselves. Mary felt a sudden rush of embarrassment – what if any of them and been awoken the night before, and cried shame upon her? Hastily she returned to the Steerage, sitting herself down on the pile of canvas sails upon which so much had taken place the night before.
Cooper and Wilson smiled at her. Blushing she thanked them for their gratuity. They chortled. Cooper said “Ye can thank the bosun for that my lovely, ’twas his idea. A pretty penny for a pretty lass, mind – and well earned too!” both men laughed.
Mary's eyes looked down at the deck In her mind a battle raged. It was a terrible thing she had done, but still, the money would buy her many luxuries. She fervently hoped she would be home by nightfall – Mrs Babbacombe, although used to Mary not coming home of a night sometimes would be wondering where she was, and why she had not attended church. She also had to be back at the Angel on Monday.
She felt awkward as she made small talk with the two men, men whom she had surrendered herself to so freely the night before. Cooper and Wilson pushed and pulled the pole according to shouts from above, turning the rudder attached to the pole below.
Eventually there were shouts out on the deck. Mary went out to see a bustling harbour, with many ships already moored. Walking over to the bosun she asked him where they were.
“Plymouth!” he replied.”The shoreward wind hath swept us up through Plymouth Sound and we shalt soon dock. Thee can go ashore directly, and find passage home. Fare thee well, sweet maid!” He blew her a kiss.
Mary's heart jumped in her chest. Plymouth! She had heard so much about it, a great nautical port for both His Majesty's navy and many merchantmen too. A huge city, with a population of nearly twenty thousand souls, ten times the size of her home-town. She had dreamed of one day visiting this sprawling city, and now she was here!
Eventually the boat docked, and Mary was able to go ashore up a gang-plank. Following her were several of the passengers. Standing at the rail Robert called out to them, his commanding voice booming out amid the hub-bub and noise of the busy quay “Aware! We are here but to take on fresh water. We sail again on the next falling tide, thee hath but an hour to return!”
Mary looked back, taking one last look down at the ship. She patted the bag of coins, its drawstring coiled around a skirt button for safety and tucked inside the waistband. With a smile she turned on her heel and ventured along the bustling dock towards the city itself.
By now her hangover had passed, and she felt suddenly hungry – it had been almost a day since she had eaten, a lunch of bread and cheese taken during her break at the Angel. Her tummy rumbled angrily.
As she left the docks behind she wended her way into the hustle and bustle of the busy city. Men shouted roughly, horse-drawn carts clip-clopped along, street traders yelled their sales patter, women hastened to and fro. A woman stood on a street corner openly offering her wiles to passers-by.
Mary's jaw dropped with amazement at the brazenness of it all, but her shock was suddenly tempered by the cold realisation that what she had done the previous night made her no better. She touched the coins under her skirt once more and held her head up, no longer ashamed of herself.
As she passed the woman she flashed her an approving smile. The woman gaped back, unused to approval from other women, more used to looks of disdain.
Mary strolled through the streets, taking in the amazing sights and sounds of the city, a world away from her humble home-town.
Mary's nostrils caught the wholesome scent of food drifting through the air, and she espied a vendor with a handcart laden with parcels of wrapped cloth. The parcels gave off a faint steam, and the smell of baked meat and vegetables drifted forth. A sign proclaimed the parcels to contain “Kernow Pastyes of the finest kinde home baked”.
Mary was familiar with the Cornish delicacy of the pasty, although the dish had originated with the tin miners of Cornwall, the county whose border was the other side of the river from Plymouth itself, versions of them were common upon the tables of working folk across the whole region.
Her mouth salivated at the thought of a true Cornish Pasty – she knew that the hand-held delight would consist of beef mixed with onions, root vegetables and garlic, wrapped in pastry and baked in an oven.
She approached the stall. The vendor saw her and called “Pastys, freshly baked and hot! Get your pastys here!”
Mary asked the man for a pasty and he began to unwrap one of the steaming parcels. She tugged the canvas purse from her waistband, then opened it, the coins glistening in the sunlight. She brandished one of the coins.
The man's eyes opened wide at the sight of the golden piece. “What is THAT?” he snarled “Some fake or forgery?”
“No, sire, tis a real sovereign I assure thee!” Mary said hastily.
His face was rigid as he replied “Well, that's as maybe lass, but even if thee speak the truth a pasty is but a penny-farthing. I have no change to match your coin so I shall have to accept the whole coin!”
Mary's face fell “I shalt not pay a guinea for a pie, sire!” she retorted sharply.
The man's face and voice were harsh “Then get thee away from here, insolent wench! Bother me no more urchin!” he began to re-wrap the pie.
Mary turned and sped away, tears forming in her eyes. A tap on the shoulder brought her to a halt. A young man stood there, a smile upon his face.
“Pray, lady, thou seemst to be lost in this town, mayhap I can help thee?” he said, in a friendly voice.
Mary sniffed, choking back the tears “Please, fair sir. I am adrift here, and I wish to get aboard a coach back to the South Hams this very day, in order to return to my home in Dartmouth.”
The man, a scruffy street urchin of perhaps sixteen years nodded sagely.
Mary continued “Dost thee know of a stand for mail-coaches perchance, one of which might have a seat aboard to carry me there?”
“Indeed I do, good lady!” he replied “Follow me, for I shall guide thee to the stand whence coaches depart.”
A grateful Mary followed the younger man, glad to find a helpful Samaritan in this teeming city. They ducked and weaved through a busy street, then turned into a quieter side street. The man hastened into an alleyway.
Mary paused, unsure of her surroundings.
The man looked back and gleefully said “Shortcut! Come on, this way.”
Mary followed timidly. Suddenly the man stopped. He spun around and to Mary's astonishment and terror he struck her a blow around the head, combined with a kick to her legs.
Her head spinning from the blow she fell to the ground. The man fumbled at her skirt's waistband then snatched the purse from her, running off down the alley and disappearing around a corner.
Stunned by the sudden assault, Mary eventually picked herself up from the ground. Now she was alone and penniless in this enormous city. What would become of her she wondered. She felt totally isolated, without a friend to her name. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
She wondered what she could do. Suddenly she thought of the only familiar thing she knew of in this vast place, the only people she knew in this mass of souls.
The ship! The men she knew aboard! They were her only point of reference in this strange urban sprawl.
Where was the harbour? She puzzled, trying to retrace her steps. Finding her way back onto the main street she stopped a passer-by “Please sir, which way is the docks?” she asked.
The man looked at her with disdain “That way stupid wench,” he muttered, gesturing down the street with an arm “keep going downhill until thy feet be wet!”
Blushing, Mary fled towards the harbour. Hurrying through the crowds she remembered Robert's voice “Aware! We sail again on the next falling tide, thee hath but an hour to return!”
The sun was lower now in the sky, long shadows were beginning to fill the streets with gloom. Mary guessed that the time for the ship to sail must be near. Her heart beat ever faster as she scurried along, reaching the harbour. She raced along the wharf, searching for the ship.
The falling dimpse made the many boats moored there look almost identical but suddenly she chanced upon it, the name-plate still visible in the murk. To her horror she saw that men were beginning to lift the gang-plank free of the ship which now stood high above the quay on the top of the tide. Hitching up her skirt, she began to run.
“WAIT!” she cried breathlessly “I wish to go aboard!”
The shocked stevedores on the harbourside paused momentarily, long enough for Mary to scamper up the wooden plank onto the deck.
Robert Standish's face was a mixture of bewilderment and smiles. Mary took one look at him and burst into tears, throwing herself at him and clinging to his chest.
“Oh good sir, please help me.” she sobbed, her bottom lip trembling “I have been robbed! Please take me to your next port of call, from whence I might go ashore, and mayhap thee might help me to fund a journey home?”
Robert gave her a wicked grin “I am sure we can accommodate thee, pretty maid.” he said “Go back to steerage, and let us see thee whence we have departed the harbour.”
Obediently Mary returned to the Steerage cabin to the aft of the deck, wiping her eyes on the hem of her shawl. John Cooper was there, and he gave a surprised raise of his eyebrows at her appearance then smiled, a lecherous grin as his eyes travelled up and down her curvy body. Another man stood alongside him, a young fair-haired man whom Mary had not seen before. Both were stripped to the waist, their singlets cast down to the deck beside them.
“Welcome, pretty maid! Good to see thee once more!” Cooper said.
With an air of astonishment the younger man, who was perhaps the same age as Mary or more like a couple of years younger said “Is this the maid from last night of which thou hast spoken?”
“Indeed it be.” Cooper answered “As if stepping from from some fantasy of the night, from mine dreams into real life!”
Both men leered at her. Mary was too tired, hungry and down-beaten to worry. She flopped down on the pile of canvas sheets at the aft of the room, the very same pile upon which she had enjoyed such orgasmic pleasure just the night before.
There was much shouting going on outside the Steerage cabin, Mary recognised Standish's voice bellowing orders to unseen men high above in the rigging commanding them to adjust the sails to take full advantage of the wind that that was blowing up down through Plymouth sound.
Above the Steerage other voices shouted commands down through an open hatch to Cooper and the young man, as they grasped the large pole in the centre of the cabin, pushing and pulling it this way and that, drawing breath hard with the effort of shifting the rudder beneath the stern of the ship against the currents of the river as it flowed out into the tides of the open sea.
The ship's boards creaked as the mighty vessel made way into the English Channel. Mary's body swayed with the motions of the ship, which was beginning to lurch now, cutting through the waves which were approaching the shore.
“HARD A STARBOARD, LADS! HARD A STARBOARD!” a voice cried above them.
Cooper and his assistant heaved at the pole, dragging it to the left. Despite the rapidly cooling temperature as the draughts of cold autumnal sea air blew into the cabin, both men were sweating with the effort of controlling the direction of the ship's travel. Even in her dishevelled and weary state Mary could not help but notice the two men's rippling muscular torsos, their well-developed biceps bulging alongside their taut, flat stomachs. She felt a familiar tingle within her, deep below her belly as she admired their physiques and remembered her sexual adventures of the previous eve.
After quite some time the lurching of the ship began to lessen, and the helmsmen were ordered to straighten up the rudder. The ship steadied to a more regular, gentler roll from fore to aft so Mary guessed they were now safely at sea. Cooper introduced the other man as Christopher Benbury, whilst lighting a pair of oil-lamps at either side of the room. Mary began to explain her plight when the cabin door opened and a young cabin-boy, perhaps six years younger than Mary herself entered, bearing a tray.
He hesitated nervously, then spoke to Cooper “Er … Bosun just came to the galley and told cookie to send vittals aft to Steerage ?”
Cooper chuckled “Ah, ol' Rob, he's a warm-hearted man beneath all the shouting and bluster. That'll be for our unexpected guest here, who sadly has not eaten for a good while!” he motioned towards Mary.
The cabin-boy looked towards Mary, noticing her for the first time in the murk. He gasped.
“Surely that not be the maid of which thy hast spoken?” he asked incredulously.
The two helmsmen chortled.
“The very same!” Cooper declared.
The cabin-boy stared at Mary, his gaze travelling from her hair and face down her body and back up to her breasts, where he stared for several seconds, am amazed grin upon his face. He was interrupted from his abstraction by a loud cough from Cooper.
Blushing the boy set the tray down beside Mary and fled from the cabin, pausing only momentarily to glance back at the embarrassed woman still sitting to the rear of the cabin. He disappeared.
Mary picked up the tray and saw that upon it was a wooden plate with some cold cuts of meat and a hunk of bread, a lidded bowl with a spoon alongside and a large wide-bottomed wooden beaker. She lifted the lid of the bowl and saw that it contained pottage, that nourishing vegetable porridge which was a staple meal for all but the very richest. She took a swig from the beaker and spluttered as the taste hit the back of her throat. It was ale of some sort, but with a sting to it. Thirsty, she cared not and took another gulp, then spooned some of the pottage into her mouth. Although it was but lukewarm it was the first proper food she had eaten for over a day.
Mary picked up a leg of poultry from the plate and bit deeply into it, tearing off its meat hungrily. There was some sliced cold beef too, which she ate with aplomb. Soon she had finished all the food, and downed the peculiar ale too.
She set the tray to one side and laid back on the canvas, her stomach aching slightly with indigestion and her head spinning from the ale.
Cooper had left the cabin for a while, and Mary noticed that Gilbert Wilson had replaced him at the pole. She gave him a smile, although her cheeks flushed a little as she recalled the taste of his sperm from the previous night. He nodded to her and smiled, he too blushing.
Suddenly Cooper returned and spoke “So, fair lass, things did not go well ashore, eh?”
“No sire. Twas most unpropitious indeed.” she replied sadly “I find myself penniless, and reliant upon the good nature of yourselves. Mayhap thee can find kindness in your hearts to aid me?”
Cooper's face set sternly, although the thin line of a smile belied his stentorian tone “Well, maid, there are four of us aboard this vessel who hath already paid generously for your attentions, and we shall not pay again. Mayhap that there are many more among the crew who would reward thee similarly for your charms though!”
Mary gasped “Sire?”
Cooper's voice was flat, that of a merchant driving a hard bargain “We four rewarded thee well for your services yestereve, and that reward should be more than enough for us to enjoy thee once more, so should thou wish to earn more then thy will have to entertain more!” he, Wilson and Benbury began to fix the rudder-pole in place with several thick ropes.
Mary's jaw dropped in surprise as the enormity of what was expected of her sunk in. The strong ale coursed through her veins now though, and the memories of the hitherto never before experienced pleasures of the night returned to her mind. She realised that when the boat found land tomorrow she would need money to return to her home, and there was only one way she could earn it. If she was rewarded in the manner of before then not only could she return, but return with a bountiful meed to boot. If she refused she would be no more than a penniless beggar, a hapless vagrant in a strange town.
Her cheeks reddened, but a wry smile crossed her face “Why good sire, if I am to be rewarded in the manner of last night I might well give myself to such men as would desire me.”
“Indeed there are men aboard who would desire thee, particularly after we four had praised thy attentions so highly during the day!”
Mary blushed deeply, realising that she had been the topic of much discussion among the men, but inside her a frisson of excitement crackled. She could feel a moistening within her, and she sat upright, fidgeting slightly as her vagina tingled with the prospect of a repeat of the night before.
Cooper stamped his boot hard down upon the deck three times, and shortly after the cabin door swung open. Robert Standish entered, followed by three more unknown men, who were ushered in by Richard Ward, who carried a wooden flask and a lidded pot.
Mary now found herself alone in a room with eight men. Her eyes stretched wide with fear and excitement at the thought of what was to follow. She felt light-headed, and staggered a little as she stood up to face the men. Laughing, Ward spoke.
“Ah, pretty princess, didst thou enjoy the ale I sent thee? Doubtless the drop of grog I added made it a hearty brew indeed!”
Mary realised why the ale had tasted so strange, it had been laced with strong rum. Ward offered the flask he carried to Mary, who realised that it too contained rum. She unhooked the lid and took a deep swig, knowing that it would help her relax for the sexual exploits she was about to undergo. As the spirit went down she coughed, the sharp vapour of the alcohol momentarily taking her breath away. She took another swig then replaced the lid and set it down beside her.
She was about to begin to remove her clothes as she had the night before when suddenly Standish stepped behind her and grasped her firmly with his manly arms, His grip was tight but not uncomfortable. He grabbed her blouse and in one motion lifted it up. Mary lifted her arms in response to allow him to remove the garment.
Her pendulous breasts swung freely, all the men in front of her gazing at them. Some licked their lips in expectation. Standish's hands now moved swiftly to the waistband of her skirt and deftly undid the buttons which held it tight. The skirt dropped down her legs, pooling around her ankles. She stepped free of it, kicking off her shoes as she did so.
The male arms which wrapped her body now fiddled with the lacing at the top of her corset, hardened, muscular fingers nevertheless easily undoing the knot which held it tight. He tugged at the sides of it, and it came loose. Mary pulled it down, wriggling to get it over her ample hips. It dropped to the floor, where she kicked it away. She stood now completely naked before eight men, four of whom were total strangers, three of whom she did even know the names of, she realised with a shock.
In the gloom her skin seemed to shine, pale and smooth. Her breasts heaved as she breathed, the roundness of her belly drawing the gaze of the men to the nest of hair that surrounded her labia,
Suddenly she felt Standish's lips softly kiss her ear, nuzzling at her lobe then running a line of soft kisses down her neck. His hands slid up her rib-cage to her breasts, where he massaged them slowly, then began to play with her nipples. She shivered from the gentle pleasure, her thighs wobbling as she shivered.. Reaching down with her hand to her pubis, she began to stroke her throbbing clitoris with a single finger, the juices of her pussy glistening in the light of the oil-lamps.
That was all the signal the remaining men needed, and they fell upon her, hands grabbing at her body, some softly some more rough. As on the night before, it was Ward who knelt and began to pleasure her with his tongue, lapping at her clit and sliding a finger deep into her. Mary's body gyrated involuntarily with pleasure. She felt herself gently but firmly steered back onto the canvas where, as before she opened her legs wide to facilitate access to her intimate parts.
She realised that Ward's tongue had been replaced by one of the unnamed men, as the sensations shuddering through her body made her squirm. Suddenly the man withdrew his tongue from her. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve he called to the young helmsman who had been working with Cooper earlier.
“Young Chris! She be nice and wet for thee now, lad – in thee go!”
There was much laughter from the men. One whistled. Another encouraged Benbury with a slap on the shoulder.
Nervously the young man approached the sprawled female form before him. Pulling down his britches he climbed onto the canvas and shuffled himself between Mary's invitingly open thighs. She smiled at him, the heady mixture of alcohol and sexual excitement making her totally uninhibited.
She gave a moan of pleasure as she felt his cock slide into her. She closed her eyes as he began to thrust his manhood into her. However after only a few strokes she felt a sudden jet of hotness within her belly, accompanied by a chorus of shouts from the assembled men. She gave a groan of disappointment as she felt the cock withdraw from her.
Mary opened her eyes to see the young man being man-handled up and away from her, his cock twitching as spunk ejaculated from it, splattering onto her belly and thighs.
Laughing uproariously, Cooper said “Ah, away with you lad! You'll not queer the pitch with your spunk, young 'un! You come even quicker than Gilby did last night, but as twas thy first time we'll forgive thee!”
Mary put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as she realised what had occurred. She looked around the men, making eye contact with each as she used her fingers to scoop up the sperm from her stomach, then sucked the sticky fluid from her digits, extending her tongue to lick them clean. She repeated this for the sperm on her thigh, and finally fingered her vagina with two digits, slurping loudly as she sucked off the juices, the taste of her own musk predominant.
The men stood transfixed, but chattered loudly to each other, making many and varied comments of a lewd nature as they stared at her. Inwardly Mary revelled at their stares and their words, delighted to be the centre of their attentions and lust, the object of their desire.
In his commanding manner, Robert Standish reminded them to keep the noise down lest they cause offence or alarm among the passengers
The men all stared at her, some now rubbing bulges in their crotches. Standish pulled Mary upright to a sitting position. Her legs dangled over the edge of the canvas pile, her bare feet touching the hard wooden boards of the deck. He pulled down his pants and his erection sprang free, invitingly close to Mary's mouth, who wasted no time in grasping it with both hands and placed her lips around its purple head. Cooper stamped his feet once more.
Mary rocked her head back and forth, sucking hard. One hand gripping the base of the cock, the other gently tickling and teasing his balls, a fingertip reaching almost to his anus then stroking delicately forward, he gave audible moans of delight.
Mary could sense the excitement building within his body but before he could ejaculate into her mouth, he pulled away. She looked up at him with disappointment.
“Have I displeasured thee, sire?” she said.
Standish smiled down at her “Not at all, brazen lass! I shall simply save some for later, I shall have thee again by and by this night. First thee has many of the crew to deal with!”
Mary's jaw dropped as she saw several more men enter the cabin. A dozen pairs of eyes regarded her now, as three of the men who were already there leaped onto the canvas and dragged her backwards. One climbed immediately on top of her and entered her roughly, but her dripping vagina easily allowed the penetration, the cock slipping into her with a brief slurp.
A second man twisted her head to one side and forced his member into her mouth.
She felt her hand being guided to the third cock. Instinctively she grasped it and began to stroke it, falling into the rhythm of the man thrusting deep inside her.
Mary writhed with pleasure as the men pumped and pushed into her until finally the man penetrating her pulled clear and shot his load across her belly, the warm splattering of the semen tickling her sensitised skin.
She heard Cooper's voice “Good man, we'll not fill her with spunk just yet, we don't want a sticky wicket for all the fellows that follow!”
Mary did not resist as her felt herself being rolled over and drawn up onto all fours. The man whose cock she had been wanking by hand pushed his member into her mouth, whilst another mounted her from the rear. As they had their way with her she heard a pair of boots, probably Cooper's, stamping once more.
She worked the cock in her mouth as she had done Standish's, her willing mouth accommodating the cock easily, her tongue expertly flickering around the throbbing member, her hands stroking the base, teasing the balls until finally the hot taste of sperm shot into her mouth, and then almost simultaneously the man behind her withdrew, shooting his spunk into the small of her back, creating a warm sticky pool there.
She was aware of a naked man lying beside her, and her body was pulled on top on his. Mary sat up, kneeling astride him as he slid his cock into her. Mary had never has sex with a man in such fashion before, but began to ride him instinctively, thrusting her hips forward and back, up and down. She was surprised to find that the cock seemed to go deeper than ever within her, the tip banging against the front wall of her vagina, causing feelings of joy and delight hitherto unknown and the pleasure boiled up, causing a high-pitched squeal of delight to escape her lips as an orgasm fluttered through her body.
She rammed her hips down hard, holding them still as the waves of ecstasy flowed through her, radiating from her vagina out through her body, ripples of delight flowing down to the tips of her toes, along her arms to the ends of her fingers and up to her head, where her mind swam, stars appearing before her eyes.
The man groaned, and grasped her hips with his hands, lifting her clear of him as he came too, his ejaculation shooting out onto his own stomach.
Mary wriggled free of his grasp and, panting, took another swig of rum from the flask on the floor close by.
A male voice said “So, like it on top do thee, thy young cocotte?” The unknown man laid beside her and pulled her on top of himself in the manner of the previous man. Mary smiled down at him and began to ride him as she had done a few minutes earlier.
The room was full of the murmured chatter of excited men, all muttering and babbling in low voices, trying to keep the noise to a low level. Suddenly all noise ceased momentarily, until Mary heard a voice say “As you were, men! Just though that I should accompany thee upon this spree.”
The muffled chatter began again, even more excitedly than before.
Mary felt a second man press himself close behind her, his stiff cock nudging between the flapping cheeks of her rump, his hands grasping her flanks. The un-mistakable voice of Robert Standish cut through the clamour.
“She'll take it up there just fine, Capt'n – but you'll need a hand or two of grease to smooth your way into that passage!” he laughed.
Mary twisted her body, turning to see Standish opening the lidded pot that cookie had carried from the galley and offering it to the man behind her. She felt, as before, the slap of cold goose grease into the valley between her buttocks. As she thrust her hips to and fro on the man still beneath her she felt a greasy finger slide into her anus.
Suddenly her movements were stopped by a pair of strong hands gripping the love-handles on her sides, pulling her upwards. She felt something probing the rim of her anus, then pressure as it slowly pushed inside her. Once more she felt her body invaded, as if a fist had been pushed up deep into her, reaching through her guts up to her stomach. This time however there was no pain, just an enormous feeling of penetration, of invasion. The thought of giving herself so totally, so intimately to a man only served to increase the feelings of wanton gratification.
The cock began to slide backwards, then forwards, driving her hips down under the weight and back onto the cock of the man below her. Now there were two cocks within her at once, and her eyes bulged with delight. The sensation of total fulfilment, not only her own physical pleasure but the mental pleasure of knowing she could satisfy two men at once, lifted her to new heights of delight, above mere bodily orgasm but to an ethereal world of indescribable consummation.
When the man below her grunted and let forth a stream of cum inside her, her whole body shivered, her entire skin suddenly becoming one all-encompassing erogenous zone. Just the touch of the skin of the two men against hers caused to her to come over and over again, her body shaking and trembling with orgasm after orgasm. She continued to come as the man entering her from behind let go with his own stream of hot spunk.
Their lusts sated, the men released her, and she slumped sideways onto the canvas, shuddering with delight as the orgasms echoed through her body. In the gloom she was astonished to see four more men, all stripped naked and all rubbing their erect cocks!
“Please, a rest, I beg of thee sires!” she said plaintively.
“Nay, thee can rest after!” said one of the men, handing her the flask of rum.
Mary resigned herself to what was about to happen. She sighed and took a deep swig of the fiery spirit before beginning to lie back. However, before she could do so, a man slipped alongside her and pulled her body on top of his.
With her back to him Mary felt him steer his cock into her back passage, still greasy from the goose fat that had been applied there. A second man pushed his naked hips against hers and forced his cock into her pussy. A third man knelt behind her head, and that of the man beneath her and, cradling her neck with his hands, tilted her head upside down, exposing her mouth and throat.
Mary opened her mouth and the cock pushed its way in. Her mind spun as she realised that she was now accommodating three cocks at once! Her body heaved this way and that, beyond her control as the men pushed and pulled her, thrusting in and out.
Unknown hands grasped at her jiggling breasts, manipulating, squeezing and twisting them until she felt a weight press down on her stomach, and a pair of thighs squeeze against her ribcage. A pair of hands grasped her breasts, squeezing them together. She felt a cock force its way into the tight valley between them and the man astride her began to rub his manhood against her.
Strange hands grabbed both her own hands, and she felt them guide her fingers around two more rampant cocks. Having lost control of her body, surrendering it to the wiles of the men, Mary struggled to remain in control of her thoughts as she realised that she was now pleasuring six men at once.
She began to feel dizzy, her mind spinning from a combination of alcohol and sheer pleasure. Vaguely she was aware of some of the men releasing their grip on her, vaguely aware of streams of hot cum shooting into and onto her body.
In an almost dreamlike state she felt hands manipulate her body into different positions, felt different cocks slide in and out of her every orifice, felt ever more cum on her and in her. Mary's mind drifted away into a haze of oblivion.
Suddenly she awoke with a start to find another man's strange face above her, his expression of triumph evident as he released yet another torrent of jism into her. Shocked, Mary realised that she had passed out, but the men had kept on taking her nonetheless. How long had she been out? How many men had taken advantage of her while she was unconscious?
The man climbed off her, quickly to be replaced by another. Mary tried to object, but all her voice could manage was a low croak. Her body felt too weak to resist, so Mary resigned herself once more to the lust of the man, her limbs limp with exhaustion. She drifted back to sleep while he rode her.
When Mary awoke once more it was daylight. The rays of autumn sunshine streamed directly down through the hatchway above the Steerage cabin, hurting her eyes. She found herself covered not only by a flap of the canvas, but a soft blanket had been wrapped around her.
Every muscle in her body ached, every joint in every limb felt as if it had been stretched beyond its limits. Her jaw ached from the amount of time it been extended the night before to accommodate so many cocks. Her vagina was dry and sore, and her backside burned as though a hot coal had been inserted there. Her nipples were sore to the touch, even the rub of the soft blanket upon them made her wince with pain. A dry mouth and a thunderous headache compounded her suffering.
As her eyes accustomed themselves to the shafts of the noon sun Mary saw two men stationed at the rudder-pole. Although she did not know their names, one was familiar, his was one of the faces that had joyously ridden her the night before. She struggled to recognise the other. Had he been one of the men? Mary thought not, but couldn't be sure.
Stiffly, she moved her body out from under the canvas. This time she could care less about her nakedness, she let the blanket fall to the floor as she picked up her clothes and painfully began to dress, every nerve in her body protesting at the movement. She noticed a trickle of dried blood on the back of her leg.
One of the two men at the pole, the one Mary wasn't sure she recognised or not, saw her and brightly said “Good morning Mary!”
Mary groaned inside. He too had been one of the men to whom she had surrendered herself. Both men now smiled at her. One muttered a few words to the other, inaudible to Mary but both men laughed, hearty guffaws from each so she guessed that it had been some sort of derisory or lascivious comment.
One of the men went to the door of the cabin and, holding his hands to his mouth, let out a hoot like an owl. An answering hoot came back from the other end of the ship. Within a few moments the young cabin-boy appeared once more, again carrying a tray.
Blushing he approached Mary and set the tray down at her feet. Cowering he glanced shyly up at her.
He stammered “T-th-this is-is from cookie ma'am.” then turned and ran from the room at full pelt, disappearing across the deck towards the fo’c’sle.
The two helmsmen chuckled.
Mary shuffled uneasily with the realisation that so many men had had her during the night. Brazen and wanton she had truly been. What must they think of her? How many exactly? She sighed as she realised that she could not remember. As if reading her thoughts one of the helmsmen spoke again.
“Under the sheets there, beside where thee slept, ye shalt find a bag containing a fair bounty for your night's endeavours, miss.”
Cringing, Mary lifted the canvas upon which she had given so much for the last two nights. Her eyes fell upon a bag of heavy woven cloth, tied up with a cord threaded through a series of holes around the top.
She hefted the bag in her hand. It felt heavy, and clinked with the sound of coins. Shyly Mary kept her back to the men and surreptitiously counted the coins. She tipped them out into a well she formed by pooling her sleep blanket before her, and popping them one at a time back into the bag. To her astonishment, there were forty-two gold pieces, and one florin! Although the florin was worth two shillings, and so was equal to Mary's weekly wage at the Angel, it was insignificant compared to the golden guineas, each worth twenty-one shillings.
Mary tried to comprehend how much money the total was. She totted up the pounds in her head, and realised that it would take her almost ten years to earn that amount. She was rich!
Any shame she felt at her exploits vanished, as she realised she could now live out all her dreams. She could visit London, buy elegant clothes and perfumes, she could even buy underwear! She resolved to have nothing but fine silk undergarments and stockings, and she would purchase a corset that not only pushed up her bust but covered it too, saving her embarrassment on cold days when her nipples became all too visible through her blouse.
Behind her one of the men spoke to her.
“If you're wondering about the florin,” he said, chuckling “well … you can't expect a mere cabin-boy to be able to afford a whole guinea, can you?”
Mary's jaw dropped momentarily as the knowledge that every last man-jack of the crew must have visited her during the night, officers, men and boys alike, sank in. Unrepentant, she thought of the coins. Fashioning a pouch from her shawl she placed the money-bag in it and strapped it to her waist. The cold September wind whistled through the still-open door from when the cabin-boy had departed in haste some minutes earlier. She folded the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She picked up the tray, upon which was a plate holding a breakfast of bread and fish. The cold fish tasted of nothing but the vinegar and salt in which it had been preserved, but the bread was still fresh. Mary ate both hungrily, and washed them down with the contents of the beaker which contained ale, but this time it had not been laced with rum as last night's had been.
After consuming the breakfast Mary felt a little better. Her headache had disappeared and her parched mouth now felt normal. She gathered the plate and beaker onto the tray and slowly, jerkily stood up, her body still filled with aches and pains following her escapades of the night before.
Carrying the tray, she hobbled to the door that led out onto the deck and attempted to descend the few wooden steps that led down to the main deck. Despite the fact that she was becoming accustomed to the roll of the ship, she was unable to prevent the plate and cup from falling to the deck due to the stiffness of her movements. As she painfully stooped to pick them up, they rolled humiliatingly away from her, aware that several of the passengers were now up on deck taking in the air.
One lady fixed her with a kindly smile and bent to assist her in gathering up the items. As she straightened up Mary realised, to her further embarrassment, that a trickle of fresh blood was running down her leg, her anus had begun to bleed once more, and the blood was beginning to seep through her skirt.
She stopped, rooted to the spot with shame. Wordlessly, the woman took the tray from her and walked across the deck, carrying it to the fo’c’sle. She returned and, with a look of pity, gestured for Mary to follow her. Mary followed her to a hatchway which led below deck. Mary followed her down a stair that was so steep it was more akin to a ladder. She winced as she descended, every joint and muscle aching.
In the gloom below decks the smell assaulted Mary's nostrils. The stench of pitch and caulk hung in the air, accompanied by the odour of human sweat, urine and excrement. To her astonishment another stink floated in the air, one that immediately reminded Mary of the fields at the top of Jawbones Hill in Dartmouth, the smell of farms, the smell of animals. Suddenly Mary heard bleating from below the deck upon which she stood, the sudden realisation that the ship was ferrying not only passengers along the coast, but animals too.
The woman who had bid Mary follow her led her to a small area screened by a curtain. Mary noticed many more small enclaves, each screened by some form of sheet or curtain to give a little privacy. The woman picked up an old rag, and tore off a strip for her. Mary realised that the woman believed that she was suffering the curse, and she gratefully smiled and accepted the gift. Hiding behind the curtain, Mary lifted her skirt and wrapped the strip of rag around her groin and backside, tying the ends tightly.
Whilst the woman stood with her back turned, to afford her some more privacy, Mary fumbled in the pouch containing the coins. With some difficultly she found and removed the florin.
When she had finally readjusted her garments Mary hobbled from the woman's sleeping quarters. Humbled by the act of simple kindness, she pressed the florin into the woman's hand, knowing that in the murk below decks she would be unable to identify the exact nature of the coin.
“Bless you.” Mary whispered quietly as she hobbled away, back towards the ladder.
“No, bless you, sweet child!” the woman answered. Mary realised that the woman considered her too feeble-minded to have predicted when the curse would strike, and breathed a sigh of relief that obviously the passengers at least were unaware of her deeds of the past two nights.
Painfully she climbed back onto the deck. She breathed in lungfuls of the fresh cold air, to clear the acrid stink of below decks from her nostrils. As she limped across the deck she was aware of a number of the sailors on deck looking at her salaciously and grinning. Mary felt pangs of shame, despite the huge disbursement she had accrued. She pulled the folded blanket around her shoulders for warmth as the cold sea-breeze blew across the deck. She held on to the rail at the side of the ship to steady herself.
As she looked around her something began to nag inside her mind, something was wrong. As her head cleared she realised what it was. Unlike the day before she could not see any coastline to either side of the vessel. Mary's brow furrowed as she puzzled this situation.
Too embarrassed to approach any of the crew she sidled over to one of the passengers, a smartly-dressed man a few years older than herself.
“Excuse me, sir, can you answer me a question please?” she said quietly.
The man doffed his cap to her “If I am able, good lady, it would be my pleasure to do so.” he smiled.
“We appear to be well out to sea,” she said “will we make land before nightfall?”
The man laughed, but not unkindly. He gave Mary a pitying smile as he replied “Why, dear child, it will be many days and nights afore we make landfall in the New World!”
The New World! Mary's eyes bulged wide with surprise, and her jaw dropped in horror. The blood seemed to freeze in her veins as the cold realisation dawned upon her that she was going to spend more time aboard The Mayflower than she had ever thought