Memorial Day 1887

Discussion in 'The Bodyguard's Scribbles' started by The Bodyguard, May 26, 2018.

  1. The Bodyguard Active Member Humorist

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    She could feel the light breeze coming in off the river and the side yard thru the window into the kitchen. The tops of her ears felt the flutter of the hairs that had not been tucked in under the leather head harness. She could not see the room but knew she was facing the door to the porch. And when it slammed shut she heard the heavy boots come closer and then the rustle of the old straight back chairs.


    Her arms were wrapped behind the one she sat on, its old seat padding worn down to the wicker cross hatching that was leaving its indentations upon her buns. And marvelous buns they were for I sat behind her staring at the way her shoulder blades rubbed the top cross beam of the chair. The way the soft down on her arms shone in the morning sun thru the window. The way her fingers lay quiet on her middle beam, though now and then a fingernail would scratch at one of the lines that lay across her back as if a pile of red straw upon a light brown floor. Her body was rich in musk from her own arousal and that delivered to her. She made no noise but in past nights, as I lay on my bed, I had heard her lilting songs of displeasure in the the barn.


    But I had not seen what made her sing that way. And what I could not see now was her front side. And I did so wish that.


    So she could not see the two men who sat at corners of the table facing her. But she could hear, and so did I. And here it is as I memorized each word.


    "She's a right good size, she is." The younger man said.

    "Aye, six foot and a few." The older replied, both staring intently at her front side.

    "I saw her yesterday in your barn holding up your roof."

    "Nay, she was hanging by her wrists, did you not see she was well off the floor by a two or more.?"

    "I saw her holding your roof up. And that is a good thing I think. Who would want a wench who hangs around and does nothing all day."

    "She has her chores...'

    "Well, of course, what wench doesn't, but what is that worth to me."

    "She cooks well, and does the clothing."

    "As she should. But can she shoe my horses as well as slipper my foot?"

    "I say she is known for hard work. Her muscles firm, and those that need to clutch will clutch you well enough."

    "Does she have all her teeth?"

    "Of course she does. And no illness. And these are firm as your foot in the boot."


    She felt a hand take hold of a breast and give it good five finger grip.

    "A foot outside a boot can wiggle."

    And she felt a different hand take hold of the other breast and give it a cupping slow squeeze.

    I did so want to move around and see exactly how he made her moan but was not allowed such.


    "A fine wiggle of the tip. Good rope and iron will improve its virtues." The older said with confidence.

    "Its virtue I desire is how she presses it to my face when I go to sleep. Iron is fine but nature is divine."

    "She's a learned wench, can read and write, and even talk if that is your pleasure. And she can scream full throat-ed when touched by a braided, knotted, nine strander."

    She felt the hand that gripped her breast move away. And felt the hand that squeezed her tip give one last wiggle and then move to knuckle against the soft divide of flesh where a distinct bulge was hidden. She gave a low hum of appreciation.

    Oh, I gripped my chair sides in such pain as to know what she had hidden there.


    "What is the price?" the younger of the two men said taking his hand away, tasting whatever she had applied to it.

    "Seventy five, I think is satisfactory."

    "Oh, that is not at all satisfactory. I think one hundred at least."

    The older man turned to the younger. "Are you mad?"

    "She can hold up your roof. That is worth another twenty-five."

    "Well, if that is what you wish to pay."

    "I shall not pay. What made you think I would pay. We are dickering the dowry."

    "Dowry. You mean to marry this wench?"

    "She wiggles where I like a woman to wiggle and she is firm where I like a woman to be firm. And I'm interested in listening to her warbling. Let's say one hundred and ten. Plus a bull."

    "And a bull? Sir, I cannot let this wench go as such. You shall pay ME one hundred."

    "And I, Sir..."drawing out that title as if it were something distasteful."...am of the law. And this transaction will either be completed to my satisfaction or you will be brought to court."

    "A copper. I knew it. Have her. I found her on the road six months past and she's been a pain ever sense."

    I knew he'd only had her in the barn for a week. Fear of a whipping to my own flesh deterred such behavior as correcting an elder.


    The younger man stood up. "This lad behind, is he a good lad?"

    "Aye, one of my sister's rabble."

    "Then lad, release the lady and we shall be on our way. As soon as I receive the money and the bull."

    I reached forward and untied the arms and then helped her to her feet.

    Oh, what she wore upon her chest was worthy whatever whipping I would get later. And what she showed of her sex was, well, heavenly I thought.


    My so-called Uncle paid out the funds and then out of a drawer in the next room brought forward a good solid well made braided, knotted, nine strand bull whip. I had made it myself.

    "She can see I hope?"

    And oh those eyes that blinked in the sun were so beautiful.


    "My name is...." she began to say.

    "I care not. I need someone at my place to hold up the roof and scream well. If not, then I will sell you in the next county." He said placing my hand up onto her nearest breast and showing me how to lead her to the back of the cart for the trip along the river to his house.


    I told him my uncle always started at seventy five and haggled down to about forty. Being taken was new to him. "I dare say he won't try that type of haggle again. Are you really a copper, Sir?

    "Copper, oh, no, I said I was of the law, the law of supply and demand. He was favorably supplied but did not know what the demand was for her. So now she is mine, and she shall comfort me as I desire, won't you, Lady Allison Prestwick-Smythe? Ah, but you are not that noble lady but her scullery maid, and already replaced by another in his Lordship's bed. So not much demand for you to return. But I need your pillows to caress my face at night. Among other ways you can caress a man.


    She smiled, a bit crooked, her only imperfection I could find in my new close-up observation. My new master took a line already hooked on the rear of the cart and handed to me. I strung it out and considered which of her points should tug her along on the cart path. He motioned higher than my eyes gazed upon. So to her nose I hooked the tug line.


    She walked naked behind the cart giving odd yodels as my new master sat on the back lazily brushing the tip of his new bull whip upon her excellent, tall, and bouncing body.

    Which, since I was driving the cart, I was not able to see. Of course.