Eight Maids A-Milking

by Kitti Bernetti

  As Humility watched, she couldn’t help moving her own hand down between her legs. The mens’ lust seemed somehow to drive her so that she was startled to feel the moistness that had invaded her own throbbing sex. She observed the lad with the Midshipman’s prick now deep in his throat. His head bobbed backwards and forwards frantically, the Midshipman’s eyes half lidded with satisfaction. Humility pressed her eager finger onto her lonely clitoris. If she hadn’t been so scared of declaring her womanhood to the men, she might have got right out of her hammock and claimed the Midshipman’s jutting penis for herself.

  As Humility watched the lad become red in the face pumping the Midshipman’s prick, moulding his lips tightly over its shaft, Humility was compelled to work ever faster with her finger, breathing raggedly. It was only a matter of moments before she worked herself frantically to a peak, frigging finally to a stupendous satisfaction. Humility smiled as she realised that both she and the Midshipman had shot their load - hers of sweet pussy juice onto her aching fingers, and his gloriously into the lad’s mouth. The lad hadn’t spilt a drop. She watched the Midshipman plant a kiss on the lad’s forehead and pull the covers back over those sturdy young thighs, before he padded his way back to his hammock. The things you saw at sea thought Humility as exhausted she closed her eyes to sleep.

  Now, looking at Captain Blarne on the windy deck, Humility wondered what he did on endless nights alone in the Captain’s cabin, the sea rocking and swaying his prostrate body. Thankfully thought Humility he had never taken notice of her. A kitchen assistant and sometime powder monkey she was too lowly to receive much attention from the man with command of the Discovery. Now though, she felt his eyes boring into her back. She was sure he suspected her. She had strapped down her traitorous breasts till they ached and she left her trousers loose so that her undulating hips wouldn’t betray her. But was it enough?

  Thank the Lord it was dark, she was still desperate to pee and could hold it no longer. Like she’d observed the other men do, she shifted her feet apart and squared her shoulders. Assuming this most masculine of stances, Humility reached for the pocket carefully sewn into the inside front of her breeches and grasped for the artificial penis, cupping it in her hands. The tube fitted neatly into her, small enough to be hidden by her palm. With the other hand, she grasped onto the rigging for support. Her device, purchased at vast expense, a skillfully wrought piece of metalwork, was a work of art. But if it didn’t work, she was a dead woman. She wasn’t sure she could pee now, knowing Captain Blarne’s drilling stare was focussed on her. Humility closed her violet blue eyes and prayed. Prayed like she had never done before for deliverance from his harsh look.

  ‘God be good to me please. God preserve me until I disembark from the Devil-induced hell of this floating madhouse.’ A warm stream trickled out, then rushed to a satisfying flow, splashing between the creaking boards of the ship. Relief was not the word. Jubilation thumped through Humility’s exhausted bones. Maybe she’d carried it off and fooled them all.

  ‘Aye lad, there’s a good flow. Ye’d better lay off the ale, or we’ll bloody drown in it. Oi watch me boots.’ The sailor cuffed her heavily on the shoulder nearly knocking her off balance. Humility laughed, more from relief than humour but caught herself quickly. It was easy to maintain a low voice when speaking, but laughing might betray her femininity. Not making eye contact had come as second nature to her, a tool to assist her deception. Every now and then she had to josh with the other crew members. She didn’t want to get a reputation for being stand-offish. Her only compulsion was to get to the New World and leave her old life in England behind. She had a price on her head and the sooner she saw foreign shores the better.

  As Humility buttoned up her trousers and headed off to swab the fore deck, she bowed her head into the rain-soaked gale. Her closely cropped chestnut hair was jammed under her cap and she shivered in the cold. Boldly she turned to Captain Blarne, doffed her cap then moved swifly away leaving him with his arms crossed. As the torrential downpour splatted off his tricorn hat, onto wide shoulders, his black stare tracked her every move.

  Humility felt herself to be in the clear. She thought back to her conversation a week before with Aunt Mary. If only she could be with her aunt now in her warm cottage in Plymouth. Humility heaved the wet broom back and forth over the wooden deck to keep herself warm. Her once pretty face was screwed up against the knife-edge wind and fear squeezed her gut. Was this all really worth it?

  ‘WHERE did you say you were going?’ Humility could see Aunt Mary exclaiming in a voice loud enough to wake the sleeping babe cradled in her arms. ‘The new world? That’s across t’other side of the earth, you’ll fall off the edge. Sweet darlin’ shall we never see you again?’

  ‘You will,’ Humility had implored. ‘I swear to God I’ll come back.’

  ‘You won’t make it. They’re sure to find out you’re a maid not a man. No one could carry on that bare faced lie for so many weeks.’

  ‘I’ve studied the deception I really have. I’ve spoken to men who’ve known maidens who travelled the world in secret. I even tracked down a girl myself who now lives in Shelbury. I know how it’s done.’

  ‘Heavens above, you’re an innocent. I’ve seen those ships come and go. I’ve listened to the sailor’s drunken chatter in the inns here since I was a babe. They’re crammed together like peas in a pod those men. They rub shoulders, they get merry. You’ll not carry it off. For heaven’s sake what will you do when you wash? They’ll spy your breasts then they’ll ravage you like mad dogs at the kill. And what when you have to do other things of an intimate nature like people usually do in closets? They’ll discover you for sure.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me Aunt, with the grace of God I’ll carry it off. I swear on baby Abel’s life there I can do it’. Humility gripped the rough hewn broom in her hands. She remembered how soft the babe’s hair felt as she stroked his sleeping head lying safe in Aunt Mary’s dough-fat arms. Humility remembered the confident delivery of her hatching plan. ‘You see, I went to visit that girl in Shelbury. She had this thing, a pretend man’s todger she’d fashioned out of tin from Cornwall. Then it was covered in pig’s skin to look like a real old todger. You can piss with it and all. You just place it between your legs and re-direct the flow outwards. I bought it off her, it cost a pretty penny mind. I’ve been practising. I’ll strap down my breasts with strips of muslin like she told me. Men are filthy currs, they never wash at sea, just a splash to their faces now and then. Everyone stinks so nobody gives a tinker’s cuss.’ At this point, Humility laughed, her mind coming back to the present. It was true. They all stank to high heaven.

  ‘I’m glad you’re amused by your work.’ Humility leapt practically to the highest rigging. The voice behind her gritted with sarcasm.

  Humility nearly let slip the broom onto her foot. Terror wormed into her breast. It stilled her for only a heartbeat. Her spirit too bold to waiver more than a second, she resolutely pushed and pulled the broom weighted with filthy water, forcing her head against the cutting rain and away from the Captain.

  ‘Look at me boy when I speak. THAT’S AN ORDER BY GOD.’ Rain spat out of his mouth as he spoke. No sailor in his right mind would refuse a captain’s command. Humility ran violet eyes up rock-hard stocking-encased calves; past an impressive bulge at his crotch; over a chest broader than the strong man’s at the fayre and stopped at granite eyes fixing her like a cat ready to sup on a sparrow. His scar shone livid crimson in the half light. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘Captain, Sir, have I displeased you?’

  ‘Hush your mouth and come this instant unless you want me to hurl your skinny body to the sharks.’ A second’s hesitation was all it took for Humility to feel her collar wrenched upwards and her feet raised from the floor. Her five foot nothing frame was easy for this goliath to sweep away down the hold to the bowels of the ship. As she was dragged along, Humility looked wil
dly around to appeal to the men. But Captain Blarne had chosen his moment with perfection. All the sailors were about their business and doing their best to prepare the ship for the gathering storm.

  At the door to the Captain’s cabin, he took out a bunch of keys, deftly unlocked the door and threw her unceremoniously on the floor. She had never seen the inside of his quarters. Few of the men had. Now, from her heaped position she had every opportunity to take in polished wood, the wide-bottomed crystal decanters. The Captain pulled red velvet curtains shut over the windows. Humility curled up her limbs in a foetal position to await her fate. How had she displeased him?

  The Captain threw his sodden coat into a corner and Humility noticed the bunched muscles under his white linen shirt. He settled himself into a chair behind a solid ebony table and brooded in the candlelight on Humility’s crumpled frame. Hugging her knees, she lifted lashes to meet his grey stare. Rain had gathered in a puddle from her wet clothes and little sprigs of hair peeping out of her tight cap stuck fast to her forehead. Had she committed some on-board misdemeanour? Or had Captain Blarne with his eyes that saw everything and his ears which escaped no man’s secrets, discovered the devastating truth about his powder monkey?

  The baby grandfather clock hanging in the corner ticked, measuring the heavy seconds. The ship rocked imitating a fairground ride.

  ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He boomed.

  ‘Sir, Captain?’ Humility’s voice was tiny, like a mouse. Terror made her want to spew. ‘I’ve tried to please, tried to work hard.’

  ‘Tried to dupe me, tried to complete this voyage under false pretences.’ The captain snarled. He got up and stalked over her like a mastiff with its fangs dripping, coming in for the kill.

  ‘I.....Sir.... please.’

  ‘Please nothing. Get up. GIRL.’ Of course he knew, he’d known all along. He’d been toying with her. Waiting to pounce. Humility forced her shaking legs to carry her weight as she staggered upward. What would he do? Beat her to death here and now, carry her up and throw her off the ship. Or toss her to the men so that they could rip off her clothes and satiate their lust on her? The Captain stood so close you could barely slip a sheet of paper between their two bodies. He didn’t smell of rum or tobacco as in her dream. Instead he smelt of soap and pricey Spanish Rioja, of the leather of his belt and of a musky manliness. The scents teased her making her swoon. ‘Take off your cap.’

  She did so, and he lifted a hand towards her brow. She bristled, tensing. Her heart crashed against her ribcage as she waited for him to strike, sweep her clear across the floor. But he didn’t. Instead, he brought his palm down onto the side of her head and brushed it like a butterfly’s wing across her hair. She felt her breasts rise and fall in terror. He was toying with her.

  ‘Take off your jacket and unbutton your blouse.’

  Humility felt his breath dust her forehead before she stepped away to do his bidding. She peeled her clothes off, acutely aware of those grey eyes. So this was how he was going to do it. Humiliate her, march her up the stairs naked for all the men to dribble and slaver at her. Then he was going to throw her into their clawing arms. Humility wanted to sob but she was too strong for that. She stood, her breasts bound flat against her, intensely embarrassed that he should see the extent of her deception. Was it her imagination or did she detect the ghost of a smile at the corner of those rigid lips? He was enjoying her misery. Amusement for the Captain’s pleasure.

  ‘Unbound your breasts.’

  She unwound the wrapping, her hands trembling. Out bobbed her tiny breasts delighted to be freed from their harsh bindings. Captain Blarne prowled around her, his deep set eyes fired with golden lights. Petrified Humility jumped at his every step.

  ‘Take off your trousers.’

  Her shaking fingers undid the tie at her waist and let them slip to the floor. There was a clunk as the peeing device in the pocket struck the floor. He picked up the trousers and took out the device, turning it in his hand. ‘Clever minx,’ he mused ‘very clever.’ Then he tossed it and the trousers over into the corner.

  She was totally naked now, the heat of her body sizzling against the chilly air. He paced around her, taking in every possible view of her fragile figure. He looked massive in front of her, tight breeches straining at taut hips, his flowing white shirt unbuttoned at the neck to reveal a heavily bushed chest. His skin was toasted golden brown with the suns of the continents he had sailed. As he paced, Humility felt not just vulnerable, but inexplicably excited. Was it so long since she had been this close to a man and naked? She bit her lip, the last time had been the unsatisfying moment she had conceived - not a moment she cared to remember. She drove it out of her mind, hauled herself back into her present predicament wondering if she was always destined to be a woman teetering dangerously on the edge of some predicament or other. Poverty and being female were indeed the twin parents of the edgy desperate creature she had become. She turned her violet eyes brazenly to his. She was terrified, yes. But also electrified by the intensity of his stare, by the careful animalistic pacing of what she could only admit was a superb example of masculinity. His livid scar pulsated.

  ‘What did you think you were at hiding away on my ship? Tell me the truth GIRL,’ he growled. ‘Lie to me now and you’re dead so help me God.’

  Humility swallowed, finding it difficult to concentrate on her words, with his eyes feasting hungrily on her breasts. Her nipples tightened with fear. ‘I had to flee England.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I left my knife lodged in my husband’s back.’

  His eyebrow arched. ‘And what exactly did he do to deserve that?’

  Humility’s chin jutted in defiance. Hadn’t she had to defend herself to enough male critics? She was heartily exhausted of pleading for mercy from men who made their own rules and trampled those weaker than themselves underfoot. Lawmakers, judges, priests. It was a man’s world and a pitifully rotten one at that. If she was going to be punished now by the Court of Captain Blarne she’d darn well say her piece and say it with conviction. ‘He beat me Sir. Day after day, until my ears were battered with the sound of his fist on my flesh. And he worked me hard as any bonded slave. He’d kick me to the ground to wash the floor till my knuckles were raw and when I was done he’d kick the bucket over my hard work, laughing like a crowing cockerel and order me to do it again till my knees bled.’ Defiance flared in Humility’s eyes. Whether he believed her or not didn’t matter. She’d say her piece before he killed her, for if she wasn’t much mistaken that was where this sorry journey was taking her. Sympathy and mercy weren’t known to be traits of the beast that was Captain Blarne. Besides, she was a self-declared murderer - the hangman’s noose hadn’t got her but here Captain Blarne’s word was law. Her eyes grew misty and she tried not to think too hard of home and all that she had left there. She continued, ‘then I had my baby, my darling sweet Abel. When the piece of dog turd I was married to threatened one night to beat the little one my fate was sealed and so was his God help me. He was drunk Captain, sir, evilly in his cups. He went to pick up a chair to hurl at the baby’s cot and as he turned his back to me I picked up the bread knife and plunged it deep into his liver. I have no regrets Captain for what I did. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t be standing here now. And my baby who lies safely back in England with my aunt would be a tiny corpse in a cold dark grave.’ Humility startled herself that she had any fight left in her. But her blood boiled at the memory and she’d do the same thing again given half the chance.

  ‘And you, little murderess, want to get to the New World?’

  ‘I do Sir, as far away as possible. And then I was to send for my baby, once I had found somehow to keep myself and feed myself.’ And now that dream was ruined, he might beat her to death just for the fun of it, to show her whose word was law on this floating, rolling, godforsaken watery kingdom.

  Now, when h
ope was dying in her she held her head high. If she was going to die, she’d die proud.

  When the Captain paced over to a trunk in the corner of his cabin and opened it, she imagined that he would lift out his sharp-edged sword and do her in. Why wouldn’t he? Instead, he lifted out a carved wooden box brought it over and placed it on the floor. Humility nearly collapsed where she stood as he opened it. For there, inside were the most delectable strings of pearls, glowing like a thousand tropical sunsets. Nestling beside them were bracelets of clear claret red rubies and rings of emerald, green as a meadow. Her hands trembled at such multi-coloured perfection.

  His voice scraped like gravel and there was a raw honesty to his words as he ran his fingers over the glistening baubles. ‘These jewels are my ticket out of this bedlam. When I get to the New World I’m going to trade these in for a sweet patch of land and a farm to rest my weary bones in,’ said the Captain as he lifted them and let them trickle through his fingers. ‘They’re cold but they’re beautiful just like all the grand women at the king’s court. It’s a sin to shut such magnificence away from the world when they should be decorating the slender neck of a pretty maiden.’ So saying, he placed the long string of pearls around her neck. She felt the small orbs settle on her skin chilly like glass, tempering the fire that had raged within her. His hand rested at her shoulder. His palm was rough but the touch of such a powerful man made her traitorous breasts respond and she saw the Captain’s fevered gaze as the sweat of fear glistened on her skin. Then he placed the ruby bracelet at her wrist and for a second, held her hand. His grip was strong and unyielding and when he moved her hand over to settle on his chest, she felt it shudder with the booming beat of his heart, with his need to possess and caress. Desire mounting, she buried her fingers in the curly hairs and tingled at their softness.