A Baroness' Whip Lust Read online

  As the Sun woke us up the next morning, Phoebe and I winked at each other and headed to the top deck for a stroll. We went near the bow of the ship where the wind would hide our voices from the others. I smiled into her eyes and thanked her for giving me so much pleasure the night before.

  She stopped me from speaking by putting her upright finger to my lips to silence me.. She giggled for a moment and thanked me for giving her such pleasure. It was almost a threat when she said that I could expect many nights of ecstasy before we reached America.

  I raised my hands to my face to cover the intense blushing as she said, “I despise men.”

  I wanted to say the same to her. I was feeling such a deep attraction to her and remembering pleasure that I had never had before., but I could not utter the same words. I clasped both her hands and said, “Let's walk.”

  We walked towards the stern, holding hands, and there were both the Baroness and her pretty Emily. I thought that the sight of the two us, hand in hand, would diffuse any notion of sexual competition between us. I smiled widely at both the lovely Baroness and her attendant. For good measure, I slightly bowed my head to acknowledge the Baroness' status. I hoped that this gesture would soften her dislike of me.

  Just as the Royal lady began to return my smile, several of the crew and one of the young and well dressed male passengers began to comment on my appearance. “Ah, the beauty from Portsmouth!.”

  With that remark, the Baroness' smile withered,. I lowered my head further as if to apologize, and tugged on Phoebe's hand to move along. Phoebe looked at me and asked, “What just happened”? I told her, “She is a Royal, and she expects attention paid to her, not me.”

  Phoebe asked about Emily, and I explained the role of a lady in waiting.. “Do you think that they do to each other what we did last night”?.

  “I don't know”, was my honest answer. Then, I giggled like I was five years old..

  “If she thinks that we are lovers, she won’t care what the men say about you”, said Phoebe. I believed that Phoebe was exactly right and I wanted she and I to be lovers.

  I told Phoebe that we could not be obvious about it or we could both be whipped by the

  'scandalized' ship's Captain, or by the order of the Baroness.

  “I know”, she said as she nodded and smiled and unclasped her hand from mine.

  During a few hours of watching the blue-gray Atlantic and the matching sky, she and I talked about why we were going to America. Neither of us had any notion of returning to England. We both just knew that our lives would be better.

  Phoebe told me that she was handy with a needle and thread She had heard stories about girls who knew how to sew getting room and meals and 50 cents per day, especially if they knew how to embroider elaborate designs on clothing.

  Excited, she said, “And they supply all the cloth and thread!” She said it as though the wealthy Americans were total fools.

  At about three o'clock, we went off for our supper of bread and soup. The Baroness and her Emily went to wherever they dined. We had heard that the First Class passengers were also served breakfast after they awoke. We could not imagine such pampering on board a sailing ship with the spartan accommodations we had.

  As we ate our supper, Phoebe told me about the reasons that she had a distaste for everything British. They included unwanted sexual advances from a step-father, as well as privations that her family had to endure because of economic class.

  After supper, Phoebe and I went to check our quarters to see how many of the other girls

  had gone to their beds. To our delight, they were all topside, enjoying the view and the breeze. As long as we watched the small set of stairs down to our cabin, we could enjoy the entire space as our girlish playground!

  Phoebe, nearly crazed with delight, laughed and said, “I'm going to get drunk as a Lord on that cunny juice of yours!” She stripped bare, her eyes checking the stairs, and finished stripping me. I was giggling, looking at her little breasts and pretty bare legs. I remembered how she had made me explode just last night! How I wanted to make love to Phoebe!

  I began to kiss her like a crazy girl and shoved her down onto my bunk. She laughed as I

  suckled her little nipples. I spent no time at all parting her slender legs and splaying open her pussy-lips.

  Phoebe exclaimed, “Emma!”, seeming to be shocked by my lust for her. “Quiet!”, I said, laughing hard and beginning to run my tongue along that pink valley of hers. More than the taste of her pussy, what excited me was the idea that I had the ability to make my sweet Phoebe scream in her pleasure.

  “Darling Emma!”, Phoebe yelled no more than a minute later. My sweet girl shoved her

  vulva involuntarily against my mouth, and surrendered her shuddering climax. I felt so proud of myself! I had just made my dear Phoebe give-up the most private thing a girl can give!

  As Phoebe finished gasping, she held me in a tight grip, kissed me first on my lips and then all around my face. I loved the feel of her little breasts against mine. The softness was intoxicating; her tiny nipples teased my own. I felt such new things!

  As Phoebe kissed me, I could taste the same feminine perfume that I had just inhaled.

  I stared into her big brown eyes and said, “I want your taste again.”

  “Emma”, she said, “It's my turn to please you.” “You will have your turn.”, I said.

  I parted those pretty thighs and headed back to the pinkness that now overwhelmed me.

  It was though I were drinking from Ponce Deleon's Fountain of Youth. Those pretty pussy-lips, those shuddering and slender alabaster thighs, the essence of my new and true love!

  Phoebe begged me not to stop. “Emma!!!! Please!!!”

  I wanted so much to make her lose her mind in pleasure. I gently bit her clitty with my lips, using my lips as a soft vice on that little nub of hers. I bit her clit with my teeth.

  I was relentless. I jammed three fingers into her virgin pussy and continued my oral assault on that swollen clit of hers. Her cute legs began to twitch in a way that suggested that she was a 'witch', possessed by demons. I was determined to extract her orgasm as surely as a dentist pulls a tooth from a mouth!

  Her quivering thighs almost crushed my face for a few seconds at a time. Phoebe began to grab at my hair her hips bucked against my mouth!

  “Oh, Emma!!!”, she screamed. “I can't take anymore!!” With that, she went so limp, that I would have thought she had died, had I not known better. She whispered, “Emma, I need a minute.”

  I knew what she meant was that my own pleasure would have to wait a few moments. As I patted her soft inner thighs and kissed her pussy, she gripped both of my hands in hers.

  So many words were unspoken; Phoebe was both thanking me and promising me while she held my hands tightly.

  Gasping hard, she began to suck both my nipples, one for a few seconds, then the other.

  I thought about telling her to keep my nipples in her pretty mouth, but I didn't want to delay the pleasure that she would give my little cunny.

  My nipples were like grape-shot, fired from a ship's canon! I grasped them both as Phoebe dove to my pussy! Phoebe used her tongue and her long fingers to virtually rape me. As I continued to tug on my own nipples, I felt as though I was in the grip of one of the legendary sea monsters I had been told about back in Portsmouth.

  Only Phoebe could have done this to me! My new love was shocking me, frightening me, comforting me, all at the same time. My mind blurred. I was riding a fast horse! I was riding at the top of the sails into the blue sky! I was riding the waves on the Atlantic ocean like the whales! I was overcome with pleasure!

  I cannot recall any of the sounds that I made, or any of things that I could see.

  My memory after that began with her soft, pretty lips kissing me very hard, and the taste of my own pussy on her mouth.

  As we began to retire to our separate bunks for sleep, I whispered to Phoebe, “Do you think we have anything to
fear from the Baroness?” “I don't think so.”, she said softly. “Let's just walk like close friends and avoid everyone else all together.”

  Sleep would come to both of us within minutes; the other girls in the cabin were just beginning to come-down from the main deck and find their beds for the night.

  Part Two

  The seas were rough the next day, and all of the girls in the cabin decided that safety dictated that we remain below deck to avoid the possibility of falling overboard. We all discussed the weather, and hoped that the ocean would calm itself by suppertime.

  Besides, it was a perfect chance to stay in our beds for most of the day. Phoebe and I exchanged smiles and pouts. We could have extra sleep time, but no chance to have the intense love between us as the day before. At one point, we giggled at each other, both thinking that we couldn't endure another straight day of intense love-making.

  Part of our laughter came from the fact that none of the other girls had any idea of what we had been up to the night before.

  At about suppertime, the waves somewhat calmed. All of us were hungry, and we scampered up the few stairs to the main deck. On top, Phoebe and I locked arms as we rushed to the dining cabin with the other girls.

  Our poor luck had us go right past the Baroness and all of the first-class male passengers.

  I smiled again at the Baroness and her lady-in-waiting, only to be greeted by the same hoots and hollers from the men, and the same scowls from the Baroness.

  I looked straight into the Baroness's eyes, as if to plead that none of these crude remarks were wanted by me. She seemed to perk for a moment. Emily smiled and mildly embraced me. As I walked away, I thought I might have made peace with the Baroness.. Or, had I just invited myself to be her servant for the rest of the journey?

  We had a supper of freshly baked bread, the first that had been baked since our departure, and some passable soup with boiled beef. We were all told that today would be the end of any supply of beef, even dried beef. There was, of course, no room on the ship for an animal as large as a cow for slaughtering, and even dried beef was reserved for the first class passengers.

  The butter supply had also been depleted that evening, even for those in first class.

  I smiled to myself thinking that rancid is rancid, no matter how much money one has.

  Our meals from now on would feature what fish were caught, a few morsels of chicken or capon, some bread made from the ship's stores and cooked oats.

  At that point , I volunteered my baking skills to all of the ship's scullery staff.

  I could make basic bread more palatable to all of the passengers, with a paltry few scoops of sugar and salt. Even dried beef or fish encased in my wonderful breads could approach fine cuisine, compared to the remaining provisions.

  The steward staff seemed interested in my offer. None were especially bright, and Phoebe and I thought that we would be elevated to some favored status. It appeared to be so the next day when Phoebe and I were invited to the ship's galley to assist. I launched into my tasks as though I were the teacher of this very dull lot.

  I flung together flour, beef tallow for shortening, salt and sugar without measuring, as though I had been doing this for half a century. Phoebe fetched ingredients as I called them out like a surgical nurse.

  I was adventurous with a few grains of cinnamon and curry to add flavor. After supper, smiles abounded among all the passengers.. After hearing of our collaboration with the cooks, Phoebe and I were both elevated to near-celebrity status. I thought how odd it was that a simple good meal could overwhelm feelings of sexual jealousy and disdain for those of a lower economic class.

  The whole reaction confused me. Was I now welcomed into the world of the Royals and the wealthy simply because I could cook a passable meal?

  When we again spotted the Baroness and Emily, I was less filled with fear. Emily again embraced me. The Baroness and I exchanged awkward smiles. Yet, there was something in her grin that made me think that I was not beyond some kind of future trouble. Still, Phoebe and I seemed to be celebrated by all.

  Phoebe and I were excited by our new found status. Perhaps this was a prelude to our success in America. We both returned to our below-deck group cabin to enjoy the flavor of each other’s pussies before the rest of the girls arrived at their beds.

  Our daily love-making was now something that energized me as much as the idea of being free of foot in America, and something that made the journey something to enjoy instead of endure.

  I parted her pussy-lips, giggling and saying, “We're more popular than the Baroness tonight, so we should have more fun! No supper will ever taste as good as this.”

  As Phoebe giggled, I dove into her pink valley with my tongue, and treasured her gasps.

  That taste that I had come to relish coated my tongue and it took no more than a minute for Phoebe to let go of her juices and varnish my face yet again!

  I smiled into her eyes and said that this was going to be our little early evening snack for quite some time to come. Phoebe took what seemed like all day in controlling her laughter. She finally controlled herself and kissed me deeply and wished me a peaceful night's sleep. I stroked her soft, pretty face, wished her the very same, and kissed her lips one last time for the night.

  We went to bed, as we had on the nights before, pretending to be early bed-lings.

  As the other girls rolled into their straw-stuffed bunks, they believed that the two of us were already fast asleep. We were indeed both softly rubbing our sated pussies and clits.

  We were slowing our bodies and minds. Not quite ready for sleep, not quite ready to forget the passions of minutes before.. I rubbed my still-wet pussy, thinking of the things that Phoebe made me feel, and feeling that this was a perfect way to enter the trance of sleep.

  As we awoke, we all heard some hub-bub and commotion from above deck. Phoebe and I

  mounted the few stairs into the bright daylight. I saw the Baroness pointing directly at me

  “That's her!”, she squawked at the Captain. “Check her bag!”

  I was set-upon by several of the Captain's officers. They rudely held-back my arms and grabbed my cloth bag., as the Baroness' friends on deck cackled at me. After a few moments of ruminating in my purse, one of the officers pulled a sapphire necklace from it, and held it aloft.

  “That's it! “, the Baroness barked, “That's my necklace!”

  After a stunned moment looking at the necklace that I had never seen, I said, “How would a poor girl like me ever have such a thing???!!!”

  At that moment I remembered Emily hugging me the evening before. It was placed there then, and no-one on this ship would believe that I hadn't stolen it. “How would I have taken this?”, I yelled-out, knowing my own innocence. “I have always been in full view!”

  A few of the ladies and gentlemen began to mutter the answer to my question. “It's impossible!”, they yelled. The Baroness headed-off this questioning by loudly demanding that I be hanged.

  The Captain quickly pointed-out that we were in international waters, outside British territory, and that even he lacked authority to impose hanging for thievery.

  “By my authority, she can be whipped, but certainly not hanged”, said the Captain.

  “Very well, whip her then!”, said the Baroness.

  “She's innocent!”, grew the voices on board the ship.

  “This cannot stand!”, screamed Phoebe.

  The Baroness glared at the Captain. “Are you going to excuse thievery on your ship, or are you going to have her whipped!??”

  The Captain stared at the main deck of the ship as the voices grew louder. About a quarter of them were in my defense, another quarter would have me condemned.

  The remainder, of course, said nothing at all. At that moment, I imagined that some were of the same mind as I was two years ago. Here was a chance for them to witness a whipping of a young pretty girl. I wouldn't have a chance at escape.

  The Captain pondered his o
wn political future back in England for a few moments, and then pronounced, “Thirty lashes on her bare back!”

  There was a crude tug on both of my wrists, and I was dragged across the deck to the enormous stout ropes that stabilized the main-sails.

  Crude laughter in my ear, my bodice was eagerly unbuttoned. My bodice and chemise were both lowered to my waist, as my breasts bounced-out and dangled before everyone! My proud breasts! On view to the entire ship! Those men, young and old, who whistled at the sight of my cleavage, could now see my large dangling breasts, capped with my stiff nipples!

  The Baroness grew nearer as my wrists were tied to the large sail ropes. My mind flashed with a quick image of a gigantic scythe from the heavens, slicing all of the inch- thick ropes, and collapsing all of the rigging on the heads of my tormentors!

  The huge ropes that supported the main sails were my view as I stared straight ahead..

  I could feel the Baroness's eyes on my bare breasts and upon my bare back... I turned my head to the left and looked at her, seeing only a vision in her eyes that lusted to see me suffer. I knew at that moment that nothing could spare me a cruel whipping.

  She ran her eyes up and down my breasts and my white back. “Begin!”, barked the Baroness.

  My mind flashed-back to the day when I sat on the crude wooden seats at the prison and witnessed my very first whipping. I knew in a moment that my suffering would be the same as that young woman that I saw whipped that day. My own bare back would be flayed just as hers was.

  The sailor elected to the administration of the whipping was not nearly as brutish as the one in the hangman's mask. I was grateful for the fact that the whipping would not be as brutal as the prison whipping I witnessed some years ago. Yet my sentence was 30 lashes, ten more than Nell's. And the black, braided whip was exactly the same.

  I was terrified. I was just as immobilized by the ropes as Nell was in her iron cuffs. My back was just as bared for the coming whipping. The huge ropes that stabilized the sails scraped at my bare breasts. Each pitch and yaw of the ship upon the waves made the scraping worse.