by Louisa Trent
"Do they always distend like that when you are with a man?"
"Yes," she replied. Providing he was the man, she wanted to say.
The cause of her arousal slanted his jaw, examining her like a ... like a...
Like a what?
Not a woman, surely. Not even like horseflesh...
She had it! He examined her like an inanimate object. A Greek vase, perhaps.
His examination sank to her body's center.
A Greek vase with a vagina, she thought, giggling to herself.
"Open it up," he ordered.
There was no question as to what he referred. And so while pulling at her nipple in a milking fashion that supposedly maddened men, she loosened her upper limbs. With two fingers of her non-milking hand, she parted the folds of her vulva.
"I cannot see it," he said, like a petulant little boy.
Another "it" in the glossary, presumably substituting for clitoris. At least he knew she had one.
"I'm sorry," she said contritely. "Is there anything I can do to improve your view?"
"Swing your leg open."
"Happy to oblige," she said, and did.
"Ah, there it is! A plumb little nubbin it is too. Touch it," he ordered.
"You seem rather reserved, considering your profession," he observed, as she did as directed.
Fear, not reserve, explained her diminished enthusiasm. A cucumber phallus differs as widely from the genuine article, as simulation differs from the actual event. At Ruby's place, she had always controlled the penetration, the angle of the thrusts, the amount of power behind each foray, the time element...
And she had never climaxed, not even with direct clitoral stimulation. But that inability might not matter. It was his pleasure, not hers, that counted. Besides which, a female's sighs and groans at climax were easily faked. That is to say, if he even cared enough to expect that sort of thing.
When the sea captain said, "Turn," Harry dropped her hands and performed a handily done pirouette.
"Spread your buttocks."
Open ... swing ... touch ... turn ... spread...
Like a puppeteer, his spoken directives acting as strings, he manipulated her. And like a licentious marionette, she conformed her limbs to the pull of his verbal commands, done for his delectation.
"More," he insisted, not sounding at all like he was enjoying this; sounding instead like he was flustered. "I want you well open in back."
And then she understood what he was doing. This examination wasn't so much for his delectation, as it was for his health.
"Do you check me for disease?" she asked, feeling herself blush at the indignity; it was one thing to expose oneself for a man's pleasure, quite another to expose oneself for reasons of cleanliness.
His answer was strangled. "Yes."
Dying a little inside, Harry did as she was told, splaying herself for the intimate examination of her person.
He was thorough about it too, taking his damn sweet time, but no matter the minutes of the inspection, she knew the humiliation would last her a lifetime.
"Do you allow for sodomy?" he asked after a while.
"Yes, of course," she said, offended he would think she would give only a slice, when the whole cake was for sale.
"Knowing that oral and anal copulation bring with them a maximum legal penalty of twenty years, you agree to perform acts considered sins by churches, and crimes by the state?"
"Oh, la! The law prosecutes, society persecutes, and churches assign to hell, what two consenting adults do together in the privacy of the bedchamber--and then those same esteemed institutions allow for involuntary enslavement of a whole group of people, by virtue of skin color! Such blatant hypocrisy! Well, what can one expect when even a solitary masturbation falls under the same sodomy law. Who does one hurt with that activity?"
"I am discussing legalities here."
She snorted. "You may have whatever it is you like, whenever you like it, however you like it, sir. You have only to say the word. I am well-versed in any and all natural and unnatural acts. I provide pleasure; it's up to you to dictate the manner that pleasure takes."
"Do you allow for sodomy," he insisted, as though he hadn't heard her earlier answer. "Yes or no?"
"As a thief, I have already broken the laws of church and state and society--what's sodomy compared to swiping the silverware? Yes, I allow for sodomy!"
"So you say now, but the orifice is dainty. You will require a skillful handling."
"I assure you, I will not."
"No difficulty accepting a large man?"
"With a bit of oil to amend the fit, any size is fully accomplishable--though generally speaking, gentlemen usually request only a partial penetration of a lady." She dipped her chin until her head was differentially lowered. "Forgive me, I misspoke. I meant to say whore. A lady never allows a gentleman sodomy."
"And as I am only recently a gentleman, I will require a full penetration."
Full penetration. Harry felt herself blanch. As she vividly recalled, Joshua Kane was not large; he was tremendous. No longer an innocent miss, she was realistic: large schooners have no business docking at small piers. A bump and a jump perhaps, but no full off-loading of cargo. How would she ever accommodate his freight?
Recovering her slipped composure, Harry said, "Naturally, it will be as you wish, sir."
"Well, we shall soon see about that, won't we? Bend over."
Damn him! Bottoms-up is a fine salutation for a tavern, but it is not a woman's most becoming pose--and what female wishes to appear in a less than favorable position, when trying to impress a man?
"Hardly the romantic words a woman longs to hear at a moment like this," she quipped, then grumbled, "To the floor?"
"No, rounding won't be necessary. Just a slight drop from the waist should do me."
Her full breasts shifting, she slanted lewdly forward, her gaze leveled with the empty street outside the window.
"Now there is an enchanting sight."
"I'm gladdened you think so."
"I do. You appear disease free. You must have chosen your customers wisely. If we come to terms tonight, I want you to know I won't be too strict with you," he continued. "You may carry on much as you did before. You have only to ask my leave first, before you start or stop or continue an activity. This will satisfy me."
"And I do so wish to satisfy you, sir."
While Harry considered the devious means she might employ to circumvent the sea captain's full authority, a horse-drawn conveyance halted directly outside the window. Three gentlemen alighted the coach.
"It would appear you have company, sir," she offered dryly; in her bent position, she could see the whites of the gentlemen's eyes.
Behind her, a chair scraped the hardwood floor. "I am expecting associates from Canada. I have a ... uh ... delivery I intend to make there. As Peggy has already left for the evening, I will need to let them in. This shouldn't take too long. I will show them into the front parlor, and when I return we will complete our transaction. Will you excuse me?"
"Certainly."
She felt his presence behind her, though he didn't touch her. "You may come up. I shouldn't wish you to get a crick in your neck."
"Thank you." She straightened her spine. "You are far too good."
The sound of a door opening, but the return compliment of a door closing tight was not paid her. That the door was left partially ajar in her present state of undress testified to Captain Kane's ready acceptance of her as a whore. This was no slight against her in particular; it was only that no gentleman bothered to protect the privacy of a prostitute. The very idea was ludicrous.
Because the door was not fully closed, she could hear some of what they said, not all, but it didn't sound like any sort of whaling business...
The minutes dragged by. Finally, the door across the hall reopened and the sounds of joviality, rising and falling in staccato rhythm, signaled the conclusion of the meeting. As booted feet o
nce again paraded past the study, she called out recklessly, "Captain Kane..."
Door hinges squeaked. "Yes, Mrs. Smith?"
She glanced over her shoulder at the captain's poked-in head. "Would the gentlemen care to have a look at the merchandise?"
"I beg your pardon?" he said gruffly.
"Have you arrived at a decision regarding my purchase?"
"I will not be rushed, Mrs. Smith."
"I wouldn't dream of it, sir! But considering the pressing circumstances, I need to come to terms with some benefactor this evening, and as I am already nude, I thought your associates might like to have a gander. Perhaps one of them might make me an offer."
"If you insist..."
"I am afraid I must, sir."
"Very well." The sea captain's voice. Murmurings amongst the gentlemen in the hall. Squeaks and squawks as the door swung in.
"Would you be so kind as to turn about?" one of the gentlemen inquired of her.
She inwardly cringed; bad enough her backside was on display!
"Certainly," she said amiably.
Boldly squaring her shoulders, which pointed her breasts, she faced the four gentlemen at the door. "Will this do?"
All stepped inside the study, save Captain Kane; he hung back, a thunderous expression upon his features. The expressions of the other three gentlemen could only be called admiring. This admiration appeared to irritate Joshua all the more.
"Could you open your limbs, my dear?" the tall, good-looking gentleman who brought up the rear of the group asked.
Here we go again! Turn ... open...
"Tut, tut, sir." Ignoring the scowling sea captain, she spoke directly to the merchant. "I am not open for a public auction, only for a private sale. Are you interested in arranging a one-on-one situation?"
"No, he is not interested in a one-on-one anything!" the sea captain roared.
Once, Joshua's doting smiles used to irritate Harry no end. Now his ill-disguised vexation ... his suddenly revealed acrimony ... hinted at the real man beneath the placid exterior, and caused excitement to coil inside her belly.
"Captain Kane, if you decide not to act as this young woman's protector, I should be interested in making her an offer," the brash merchant said. Turning away from ogling her, he gave a formal bow to his foul-humored host. "Or, if you do decide to have a go on her, I would appreciate it if you passed her on to me when you are done."
Just for an instant, the blasé expression Harry had determinedly fixed in place wavered. She would have liked to scream, to rant and rave and shout. To tell them all to go to hell, because she was not that kind of woman, she was not a whore to be passed from one man to the next!
Only, after Josh got through with her, she would be that kind of woman. Accepting money for sexual favors would have made her that kind of woman. And who was she to protest, to look askance, at the whaling merchant's proposal, when servicing his immaculately attired person would be far superior to servicing a multitude of uncouth sailors at Ruby's place, many of whom had no familiarity with a cake of soap, many of whom hadn't seen a woman in months? There was no decision to make here, for really, what choice did she have?
No choice.
If Josh wouldn't have her, she must consider this whaling merchant's offer.
Harry turned her most dazzling smile on the merchant. "Sir, I should be happy to meet with you priv..."
"This evening is at a close," the captain broke in. With a frown, he ushered his associates back out the door, leaving her alone once more in the study, with nothing to do save listen to the clickety-clack of carriage wheels recede along the cobblestone street.
Guests gone, Joshua returned to her. "The night grows increasingly damp," he said, standing before her, but at a small distance. "I hope you haven't grown chilled during the wait. A small fire, perhaps?"
"Don't go to any bother on my account," she said, with as much hauteur as she could muster while naked. "I am fine. Absolutely fine."
"My associates thought you fine too." Joshua walked out of sight behind her.
She heard the scrape of a chair. Then, "You may come to me now."
She turned and began the long walk to the desk, head held high, step measured and unhurried. It would never do to appear overtly excited, though she was keyed up, her teeth on edge. First, she had stolen a Ming vase. Next, having been caught in the act of thievery--she really would have to stop the criminal activity, as she obviously lacked the necessary talent--to avoid yet another legal entanglement, she had put on a lewd display for the wealthy ship owner who had ended her virginity seven years before. Then, she had exhibited herself to his associates, virtually selling herself to one and all. The events of the evening had left her ... stimulated. Sexually.
Joshua Kane was certainly not the romantic hero of her innocent dreams, and yet ... and yet ... her lust for him burned hotter than before. A mature woman's desire now, her hunger demanded satiation.
"Place your left foot here," she was told. The sea captain indicated his desktop with a hand.
While considering the height she would need to achieve, she stared at those knuckles; a seaman's scarred and battered knuckles, the hand dark and large. With her leg raised, her foot up on top, her femininity would be accessible to that large, dark hand, fully open to his jaded view of her. Would he go up to those scarred seaman's knuckles inside her? How many fingers? One? Two? Impossible to fit more than two! Impossible to accept more than a knuckle-deep penetration--those fingers were long!
He could hurt her. Those hands could hurt her. His male part had already caused her pain. And Josh was angry, very angry with her. What would he do to her in his anger?
"I promise to catch you, should you lose your balance," he prompted, when both her feet remained glued to the floor.
"I have excellent balance, sir."
She needed the money. She needed the money. She must have that money!
Her legs were long; the desk was low. Harry hiked her limb, ensconcing her heel on top.
Money motivated the action, but money did not cause her vagina to moisten. The sea captain, not the money, had caused her to go fluid. To save her pride, to protect her dignity, to keep some part of her secret, she kept her knee bent inward, to hide her honeyed vulnerability from him.
"Widen out," he said, not allowing her even that small bit of secrecy.
All was lost. As soon she changed her present pose, he would see what she strove to hide...
Like a ballet dancer, she stretched a limb, pointed a toe, and said as though she had not a care in the world: "Like so?"
Leaning forward in the chair, his eyes never lifting from her exposed and glistening vulva, Joshua Kane reached into a gold canister embossed with his signature nautical knot. "I have something for you," he said, holding that something out to her.
The sperm whale ivory felt unbelievably smooth when she wrapped her palm around it. "Don't tell me--you propose to teach me the art of scrimshaw?"
"I propose you use that whale tooth as a phallus. A female as wet as you needs something inside her."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Thirty teeth of the sperm whale may be used for ivory," the sea captain offered. "This one is highly unusual. Though most whale teeth measure up to 8 inches in length and 3 inches across, this one is two inches longer and one inch wider. The same make as am I." He settled back into his chair.
To watch, naturally. "Very well," she said, and inserted the enormous whale tooth dildo between the lips of her sex.
"Slowly, slowly," he said. "No need to rush."
Her lungs emptied on a whoosh as her vagina was penetrated; it had been years since she had done this at Ruby's, and she was woefully out of practice.
"Can you accommodate all of it?" he asked.
She nodded, too breathless to speak, as she pushed and pushed and pushed, until all but the very end of the ivory had disappeared.
"Move it in and out," he ordered.
She did. Slowly. Slowly. No need to rush.
"Bring the ivory out and show it to me."
She did.
He observed the saturated tip. "How does it look to you?"
She caged her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Well?" he demanded.
"Wet, sir. The phallus looks very wet. Copiously wet."
"Why?"
"From my excitement," she ground out.
"Why are you excited?"
Damn him! "I am excited because you watch me, sir," she said.
In her pent-up resentment, she teetered in her one-footed pose after only just boasting of her excellent balance.
"Steady," he crooned. "Steady," he repeated, speaking low. "Now put it back in. Nice, gentle glides."
His hand went to the small of her back, the palm so incredibly hot there, at the base of her spine, his fingers moving in a circular motion, encompassing the beginning swell of her bottom, supporting her as she glided the phallus in and out. It was the first time he had touched her in seven long years.
"Are you all right?" he queried.
Her chin gave a jerk, which made a liar out of her.
She wasn't all right! She was terrified, of being with him, of failing him, of leaving herself open to him again. He had hurt her once, just about crushed her, and she couldn't go through that pain again.
"Your body is really quite splendid." His eyelids wore a heavy, half-mast look. "Do you mind if I ... well ... investigate you further? Just a sample. Just to help me make my decision. Not for free, you understand. I wouldn't expect anything for free--I will compensate you for the exploration should I decide you don't suit."
"No, sir," she chirped, pushing the ivory in and out. "I don't mind your exploration."
His eyes narrowed on her breasts. "You really are quite, quite spectacular. A man could easily reach orgasm by simply thrusting between your ... well, of course you know my meaning. Your clients must use you like that all the time. Tell me, do you have clients who pay to run their hands over you?" he asked, his hand running over her bottom.
At the absurdity of his question, the tension inside her loosened. "No sir."
"So, generally speaking," he said, his hands now cupping the cheeks of her bottom, "these clients get right to the point?"
