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Savannah

By: captjack



Easily slipping down the Intercostal Waterway through yet another 'no wake' zone. Maintaining 6 knots and riding a rising tide is not difficult. In a few miles he would enter and have to cross the Savannah River and have little time to for idle though. But right now he could let his mind wonder. He had planned a cruise to Myrtle Beach but now he was 200 miles south of there heading for a marina in Thunderbolt, Georgia. The reason he this far south of his destination was an invitation from Anna. He had never been to Savannah and all he really knew was from the book "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil." Anna assured him there was more to Savannah than the assortment of odd characters portrayed in the book. Still he wondered if he'd run into the man with the invisible dog or the salesman with purple eye shadow. Smiling at the thought brought him back to Anna. And she would make the trip all worthwhile.

Crossing the Savannah River and finding the proper channel was easier the he thought, and Thunderbolt marina was clearly visible. A short radio conversation led him to the transient slips and a dock boy helped with the lines and the power cord. Anna was waiting in the marina lounge just as she said she would. She was sitting at a table close to the window and smiled broadly at him as he approached. She rose as he neared, they embraced and their lips lingered together. They both sit and exchange the usual pleasantries easy in each others company. She asks about the trip down the Intercoastal and he asks what surprises Savannah had for him. Smiling she looks at her watch and notes that it is 6pm and they should get some dinner. 

It is a 5 minute drive to restaurant where they both order shrimp dinners because they are local and fresh. While awaiting our order he noticed that even dressed casually in a linen dress she still looked elegant. Gazing into her deep eyes he is able to see her soul smile. Her eyes keep roaming his body and then return to his gaze, allowing him to witness the hunger she cannot hide from him. Warm and gracious smile on her lips signal her content in being with him. She reaches across the table to take his hand in hers, he delights in her touch. The waiter interrupts the moment with the meal and they both settle down to dine. After dinner the step outside to meet the low sun and he asks "Well, you're the tour director, where to," to which she says, "Let's just walk along the waterfront, and I'll show you old town Savannah tomorrow." Smiling he was thinking that tonight was between now and tomorrow and only a hint of how to fill it. What would the city known for Midnight hold for him at midnight?

They strolled hand in hand in the waning sun of early evening, their conversation light and breezy as the air around them. Easy in each others company just as they had been for months before meeting. But in this first real meeting they explored, in greater depth, each others sensitivity and intelligence, finding more and more common ground and compatibility. From the very first they seemed well suited to each other. And they were cementing their bond on this evening. Strolling down the street she pulls his hand back slightly and places her other hand on his face. Kissing him deeply with an aggressive tongue she showed that she could lead as well as follow. Breaking the kiss, she gazes in his eyes and says "air conditioner working on the boat, babe, because we are going to need it." He affirms that it is. 

Back at the boat bathed in the warm glow of only candles they embrace, gently at first their lips barely touching, then harder as the desire inside them grows. She is rubbing up and down his arms, and he is doing the same to her. With each movement he brushes the sides of her full breasts. Her tongue between his lips he gently rolls his teeth across it. Pushing her tongue he probes her mouth and feels the heat within her. Without breaking the kiss she loosens the single button of his pullover shirt. Taking his cue from her he unbuttons the back of the dress and unhooks her bra. She moves down his chest slowly and unbuckles his belt. 

With delft fingers she unbuttons his short pants, and eases them and the briefs over his hips. He pulls the shoulders of the dress and the straps of the bra forward and it too falls away. She is now probing his mouth with stabbing motions first with a firm tongue than letting it soften across his tongue. Both are breathing harder their passion rising. Their desire for each other increasing. At last breaking their kiss she pulls his shirt over his head and only then did he notice she wasn't wearing any thing else.

Gazing at each other for the briefest moment her smile broadens in anticipation. He is totally enamored with her stunning beauty frozen in time and space. He pulls him close, her nipples against his chest. His hand sliding easily across the silky smooth skin of her back. Her breasts pressing him, her nipples swollen with excitement. Between them his cock is rock hard and precum dampens her stomach. Taking his shoulders in her hands she turns him slightly and pushes him back until he falls onto the berth. He is slightly surprised by her aggressiveness and he wonders what she has planned. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

She lay on top of him kissing his lips, nibbling his chin, and down his throat. Arching his head to try to let his mouth absorb her she placed a hand on his forehead and gently pushed it back on the bed. She was in command right now and wanted him to be certain of that. Nibbling and licking down his chest she took one of his nipples in her mouth and sucked firmly. Than let her teeth roll the nipple side to side slightly increasing pressure with her teeth until she heard him moan slightly. Looking up in his eyes she smiled and lowered her head to the other nipple repeating the teeth action.

Working down his stomach she placed on hand around his stiff and straining member.

She places her tongue on he tiny hole and licks the vestiges of the precum away and forces her tongue to spread the opening. Than placing her whole mouth around it and slides her head down taking more and more of it very slowly, all the while gazing in his eyes. In a raspy voice he asks her to spin around so he can return in kind. Removing the cock from her mouth she says "The first one is mine, babe, we'll have plenty of time for that later, but right now I need this. Making it clear to him who was leading and who was following.

Than she eased her hips up and over him until she was positioned over his cock. She gently eased her self over it and allowed the tip to pass her swollen lips. Noting how very wet she was, she told him she started getting that way at dinner when she touched his hand. His hips arch to meet the wonder of her and she eased up not allowing any further penetration. Smiling down, she told him she'd take care of how far and how fast. Fully supported on her calves she takes both his hands in hers and places them over her breasts. His hands go right to the nipples and roll them in his fingers. Leaning into the hands and laying her head back she slides down the shaft ever so slowly. Hisses escape deep within her throat.

Time and place have no meaning for her, she is totally lost in her passion. Rising up she almost clears the shaft, looks down into his eyes and drives her over it in one swift thrust and she cries out in delight. He is rotating his hips while she slides up and down increasing the sensations within her. Her inner muscles clamping his cock like an all around vice. She has her hands on his chest twisting his nipples. He is thrusting his hips to meet her every movement. She is more sliding along his stomach than pumping and her clit contacts his flesh with every move. Passions on overload her mouth open and breathing in a labored rasp, eyes rolled back in her head. Suddenly she screams out and increases the pace to a feverish cadence. She is squeezing his chest so hard her nails sink into the flesh. 

Spasms rack her body, head thrown further back, knees clench his hips, feet curl at the toes. She rocks back and forth, mouthing unheard screams. Than just as suddenly she stops, and falls forward on him, her mouth finding his, kissing him deeply. Returning the kiss he strokes her hair. Moving her head to the side she tells him to give her just a minute, than they can continue so he can cum just as hard as she had. Looking deep in her eyes he smiled and told her she'd been in charge long enough he was taking over now. He said he had some plans of his own.

Besides, he said, I don't need to see the salesman with purple eye shadow on one eye.

Savannah 01



This is the first part of a long story hence, its publication in the Novels and Novellas section of Lit.

I hope to publish a new part every three weeks or so and I look forward to hearing from anyone that reads it.





Eighteen fifty seven had not been a good year for Missus Amanda Williams. 

In February, her husband Samuel had left her. Not just left her for another woman, but of all people, an actress of twenty something. Whilst losing her husband was hard to take, for a woman rapidly approaching forty, the fact that he opted for a young thing was devastating to her. 

Then in July, her father had died from a massive heart attack. Being in London when that happened, it was impossible to get home to the family plantation Selby Bluff in Meldrim near Savannah, Georgia for the funeral.  Now, though, two months later, after settling her affairs in London, she was about to set sail from Bristol in the West of England to Norfolk, Virginia. 

Amanda and her father George had never been close, in fact since she was in her teens they had only seen each other a few times. Her mother had been the family, her father was the plantation. He ran it well with a military-like precision and efficiency, which ensured that it made loads of money and was one of the most successful in the Savannah area. 

Whilst the slaves were, of course, treated very strictly, 'as you had to otherwise they would be lazy,' they were certainly better off at Selby Bluff Plantation than many others in Georgia. George La Salle recognised that even slaves responded to fair treatment and that it was in his and the plantation's interest for them to be well motivated. He achieved that, and thus greater productivity than most plantations, by finding a good balance between fair treatment and strict sometimes harsh physical discipline. 

Despite having been brought up surrounded by slaves, Amanda found the whole slavery ownership of human beings hard to take or accept. 

It was her mother, Florence, who had been the driving influence in Amanda's life. A Yankee from Boston, she was well educated and well read. Why on earth she had moved from the sophistication of Massachusetts to the cultural wastelands of Georgia was a question that always fascinated Amanda, but had remained unanswered right up until her mother's death a few years ago. 

She had ensured that both Amanda and her year younger brother, Adam, had received excellent educations, something that her father felt was a waste of time, particularly for women. 

Whereas her brother went to Harvard, Amanda never did get to university, or to the finishing school in Europe that Florence had intended. On a weekend trip to New York from Boston where she had been visiting Adam when she was twenty-three, she met Samuel Williams. Amongst other things, he was a professional gambler and simply swept her off her feet. The next weekend he took the train to Boston and not only captivated her again, he swept her into his bed at the original hotel in Copley Place, The Belvedere. 

Pregnant, she married him a month later at a dazzling wedding in Manhattan, paid for by Samuel. Her father and most of her family apart from Florence and Adam refused to attend. Losing the baby after a few months and being unable to have further children was a heartache Amanda constantly struggled to come to terms with. 

Unlike most gamblers, Samuel was shrewd. Every time he won, he gave a quarter of his winnings to Amanda and invested another quarter in longer-term, difficult-to-sell investments. One of these was in a theatrical company owned by a descendant of David Garrick, a massive name in the American and English theatres. That investment grew rapidly and provided Samuel and Amanda with a steady income from both the New York and, particularly, the London businesses. 

"Let's go and live in London, Mandy," Samuel said one night as they lay in bed, still sweaty and panting from their lovemaking, which as usual had been spectacular. 

They talked about it for some time, with Amanda becoming increasingly more excited at, and interested in, the idea of living in the greatest city in the world, at that time, Queen Victoria's London. 

Whilst Samuel's gambling increased in London, where big poker games, roulette and Chemin De Fer were all the rage, his main occupation gradually became a theatrical impresario. He loved setting up the plays and music halls, negotiating the deals, motivating writers and, as Amanda found out later, fucking the young actresses. 

London had been fantastic. Samuel had been fabulously successful as a theatrical producer and latterly as a theatre owner. That had opened doors to so many circles that their five years in England was a whirl of social engagements which reached right up to the level of the Prince of Wales, Queen Victoria's eldest son. 

They lived in a mansion near to Piccadilly and had an estate in the country in Berkshire, not far from Windsor Castle where the royal family spent much of their time. They travelled frequently visiting the major cities in Europe, even going as far as to sailing down the Nile in Egypt. 

In many ways it was an ideal life. 

They were rich and successful and both had interesting work. Amanda had used some of the gambling money from Samuel to open a publishing company and as a hobby had started writing books, under a nom de plume of course. Her description of her writing as 'Jane Austen with red blood' meant that under no circumstances could they be associated with her! 

That was her secret occupation, even from Samuel. The string of houses of ill repute he owned were his secret from Amanda. As time went on, the brothels became not just a business for him, but also a hobby. 

It had taken Amanda, and Samuel come to that, to understand and adapt to the 'standards' of Victorian England. In America such aspects of life as etiquette, dress codes, manner, behaviour and morals were clearer and more straightforward than they were in Britain where everything appeared to one thing, but turned out to be something else. For some reason, probably the personality of the thirty eight year old Queen Victoria, social and family life was conducted with such a degree of prudishness that on the surface everything appeared to be of very highly morale values. But scratch that surface and all manner of double standards with pornography, prostitution, opium smoking, mistresses and lovers, kept women and gargoyles quickly emerged. In many ways this suited the liberal, easy going relaxed thinking and loose standards that Samuel, particularly and Amanda to a lesser, but nevertheless meaningful degree held.

They were both fairly heavily involved in charity work, having befriended the Earl of Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley-Cooper, who was the leading philanthropist of the time. Amanda worked closely with him and Florence Nightingale, a nurse who Anthony supported. Samuel had a great interest in boxing and worked closely with the father of John Chambers who went on to develop the Queensberry rules. 

Overall it was a very heady time. But as Amanda came to learn, nothing is perfect, no couple's life is ideal, and there are always problems of one sort or the other either existing or just round the corner. 

London in mid-Victorian times was similar to the revolution in the nineteen sixties; it was 'swinging London,' but without the Beatles. With their various interests, Samuel and Amanda were right at the heart of the swinging scene. As usual with most 'swinging scenes,' sex featured strongly and Victorian London was awash with the desires of the flesh. 

Infidelity was rife among the upper classes, generally and, particularly, within the 'arty' set that Samuel and Amanda frequented. 

Most men had mistresses and many 'highly respectable' women found nothing immoral in having a lover. The difference between the genders was that men tended to have a series of mistresses, sometimes several at the same time whilst 'respectable' women generally had one lover, preferably lasting some time. The established pattern worked well, though naturally it was never discussed, apart from between very close friends.

The whole rather sordid way of life was 'brushed under the carpet.' Pornography was rife and on the increase, with brothels and streetwalkers seemingly everywhere. Not much different to later years, really. 

Samuel had always been a ladies' man. The tall, slim and muscular long, dark haired man had a highly fashionable, heavy black moustache tinged with grey. His piercing blue eyes seemed to permanently sparkle and, when looking at ladies, appeared to have x-ray abilities that seemed to send his gaze right through their clothing. For the first few years of their marriage, Amanda had believed his flirting was just his way. 

But slowly, it dawned on her that it was more than that. 

She never, of course, confronted him with her suspicions, but as time went on and their position in London became more deeply involved with the liberal life-style of theatre folk, her reservations turned into convictions.



It hurt at first. She found it demeaning, annoying and frustrating to wonder who, sitting around her table at a dinner party for instance, was being shagged by her husband, or which one of this week's cast was he putting up in a hotel away from the rest so he could pop round for 'afternoon matinees.' 

After a period of heartache, she gradually came to accept that was just how things were in upper class London. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, she eventually decided, responding to his infidelity by taking her own lover or, more accurately, lovers. 

After several meaningless, but nevertheless sexually satisfying flings, Amanda settled down with her long-term lover, Sir Bernard d'Argent. Into his fifties, the grey haired man was a scholar, being very versed in early psychology and as a playwright and author. Amanda thought he was the most intelligent man she had ever met; and a good mind had always been far more likely to get her juices flowing than mere good looks. 

After meeting him at the premiere of a play produced by Samuel, his intellect took just a few weeks not only to get inside her bloomers, but to get them, together with every other piece of her clothing onto the floor of his London apartment in Dover Street. 

Amanda had been careful, shrewd and, to an extent, lucky with the investments she had made with her share of Samuel's gambling winnings. She had acquired a considerable amount of jewellery, mainly gold and diamonds, invested in two railway companies in America, had bought land in the 'new world' of California and had earned interest from banks in both England and America on the cash deposited with them. 

When their relationship came to its inevitable end, Samuel was generous with his settlement, including the estate in Datchet and the house in Piccadilly with an annual allowance of several thousand pounds. After her father's death and her decision to return home, it came as a huge surprise to Amanda, after finalising her affairs in London, to find just how wealthy she was. 

She didn't really want to go back to the Deep South, but reluctantly felt she had no choice. Her brother, Adam was a dreamer, an artist a thinker. He wasn't a doer and he certainly could not run the plantation, well not by himself. She agreed to come home and run it with him until they could find a buyer, or until they decided what alternative courses of action were open to them. 



***

It was seven months since Amanda had had sex and she was suffering! Since losing her virginity at eighteen, she had not gone that long without it, but with Bernard on a visit to India, she had little opportunity, despite a few of her husband's friends 'offering their services.' 

Although believing that having a lover was acceptable, Amanda, like many other London women in similar situations to her, could not countenance sleeping around or promiscuity. So in the months leading up to her return home, she was reluctantly forced into celibacy. 

That changed on the voyage from Bristol to Norfolk. She had not meant to have sex with Jarvis, though was fully aware that men like the Captain regularly had such liaisons as they crossed the Atlantic. She was under no misapprehensions at all what this was about - a shipboard romance, a sexual fling for both of them that would end when they reached America. 

The feeling as his cock slid into her was amazing. It was like finding sex for the first time. She had forgotten just how wonderful a sensation it was to have a man push himself deeply inside her, filling her, seemingly consuming her and, yes, stuffing her to overflowing. 

Amanda had hoped to sail home on one of the newer, steam powered ships, but cost constraints by the shipping lines meant that New York was currently their only destination. She had asked around in London and had been advised not to take a cabin on one of the returning cotton ships for they were slow, had inferior quarters and often unruly and vulgar crews. That would never do! 

Instead, she booked a passage on one of the lighter, faster clippers that primarily transported tobacco into Bristol and light machinery, clothing and other goods back to Norfolk. The Western Spirit carried a maximum of ten passengers, but only five were on this trip. With Amanda were Mr and Mrs Stevensen, an elderly couple visiting their daughter in Baltimore, and Sir and Lady Barton, a middle aged couple who were moving to Washington as part of England's diplomatic team. 

Amanda had booked the premier cabin located in the stern of the ship. It had its own small balcony and was located near to the Captain's cabin, with only the dining room between the two. Both cabins had doors leading into the well-appointed dining room, where the five passengers dined most evenings in the company of the Captain and his three officers who shared the three eight hour shifts. 

Richard Jarvis was a career ship's captain. He had served in the Royal Navy for ten years before receiving an inheritance, most of which he invested in the Western Spirit. Being not just the captain, but also part owner, gave him the freedom he craved. A bachelor from Bath, he had an eye for the ladies and he had perfected the art of seduction on many of his journeys. Sometimes with a daughter of a passenger, occasionally with a wife and, rarer, with a woman travelling alone.

Amanda was a perfect target. 

His hopes had been raised when he had checked the manifest and passenger list after the ship had been unloaded following its arrival from Norfolk. The recent advances in the dockside materials handling equipment had speeded up the loading and unloading, and now the Spirit could be turned round in ten days. This enabled Richard to travel up to London for business meetings and to see his mistress there, the wife of one of his business partners. 

It also provided him with the time to oversee the loading and any repairs and to see his lady friend, his betrothed, in Bristol. 

Greeting the guests as they boarded the ship, Captain Jarvis felt the familiar fire in his loins when he saw Amanda. Probably in her late thirties, he guessed, she was a typical 'Southern belle'. He admired her pale skin, her lustrous, long, wavy, chestnut coloured hair, but most of all, her wonderful curves. Accentuated by her corset, her narrow waist, delightfully flared hips and deliciously full bust were enough to inflame any red-blooded male. 

As a footman helped Amanda down from the carriage she had taken from the railway station, Jarvis admired the fashionably low-cut, heavily patterned dress that seemed to gape away her from as she leaned forward descending from the carriage. He loved the warm days that brought out such clothing. The fashionable, very London cut of the dress drew his gaze, along with that of every other man on the deck, to her spectacular breasts. 

There and then, he vowed that he would be sucking them before the estimated seven-week journey to America was completed. 

As it turned out, it took him less than two weeks. 

As most attractive, especially heavily breasted women do, Amanda had felt his attraction to her as they shook hands and he accompanied her onto his ship. The sparkle in his eye was similar to her estranged husband, and she felt comfortable with him as he showed her to her quarters. The cabin had a small sitting room, a bedroom with a dressing room off to one side and doors leading to the balcony, looking out from the stern of the ship, and to the dining room. It had been worth paying the extra for the grandest, most luxurious and private accommodation on the ship. 

During the first week at sea, the two other officers alternated dining or lunching with the passengers, but the Captain hosted each meal. That wasn't his normal practice, but how else was Richard Jarvis to get to know Mrs Williams as quickly as he needed to? His plan worked well.

She sat on his left during the first week, with the captain paying her that extra amount of special attention without ignoring the other passengers. Amanda was flattered at his attention, which gradually became more flirtatious, albeit highly discrete, as they got to know each other. She began to realise that it was probably only a matter of time and as he became more forthright and forward in the second week, she made sure he realised she was interested. 

She did that in the practised way she had learned in London society, in the way that only women who are confident of their sexual attraction can do.

It was not very long before he invited her to join him for an after dinner drink in his Captain's night cabin when the other passengers had retired: discretion and good standards had to be maintained of course! Two days after their first drink in his cabin,, he kissed her. At first it was gentle and respectful on her cheek accompanied by a "Good night Missus Williams." 

Within a couple of days, however, it was powerful and suggestive right on her mouth, as he said, "I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw you alighting from your carriage, Amanda." She had no hesitation in responding. 

As they kissed, they both knew it was just a matter of time before they made love. What they did not know as he squeezed her breast, was that it would be as soon as the following day. 

Mr and Mrs Barton hadn't joined them for dinner as she was slightly unwell, and Sir and Lady Stevensen, as usual, retired early. Amanda and Richard stood on the balcony sipping wine as he smoked a pipe. Their location was completely isolated, they were alone, no one could see them, for the dining room door was locked. 

Perfect for the seduction he had in mind! He kissed her and she responded. 

The sexual frustrations Amanda had felt for several months had become more extreme since she had been on the ship. Even her daily masturbation sessions had not provided the real relief she needed. Only a man's cock could do that.

In a desperate attempt to assuage her need, she'd one time bravely risked having sex with herself on her secluded balcony. She had only once before been naked in the open air and the feel of the sea air on her bare body was fantastic. Her resultant self-induced orgasm was wonderful, and a second had quickly followed. That was the moment she knew she had to have Captain Richard Jarvis's cock inside her. 

Even as she recalled that moment, Richard's hand found her breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure. It sent a shudder through her, bringing a little groan of pent up arousal from her mouth. 

Richard smiled to himself. He recognised the signs of her excitement and frustration, but then he always did. He was used to fucking middle-aged women who had been starved of sex and invariably they reacted in the same way. 




Savannah 01



"I want you so much Amanda," he seductively whispered into her ear, crushing her stomach against his strong erection, as best he could in her voluminous, hooped skirt. 

She shuddered and groaned again. Never before had she felt such a strong need, nor had such powerful sensations flowed through her. Her sexual frustrations seemed obvious to them both. Shamelessly, she kissed him back, pushing her upper body firmly against his chest. 

Richard smiled inwardly as he turned up the pressure. Seducing beautiful women was an aphrodisiac of which he would never tire of. "I've wanted you from the moment I met you, from when I watched you climbing down from the carriage. You are truly beautiful and I want to see all of you. I want to make love to you Amanda?" 

His words crashed into her sexually addled mind. Her body took over and it pressed back even harder against his so inviting erection, which she could just feel through her skirt, petticoat, chemise and drawers. He knew there and then, if there had been any doubt earlier, that she was his.

"Wait here," she told him. "When you see me open my door to the dining room, count to twenty then come into my room." 

Richard was satisfied with that arrangement. It was a not an uncommon one with a new lover for the task of a man undressing his seducee was lengthy and complicated.

Amanda felt like a young girl about to have sex for the first time. Was she really a woman approaching her fortieth birthday who had been shagged on average three times a week for over twenty years? 'Yes,' she smiled to herself as she sat in front of the small dressing table taking the pins out of hair, 'I must have been fucked over three thousand times, but I feel as nervous as if it is my first time.' 

London was the leader in women's fashion in Victorian times, although Paris, naturally enough, always challenged that and later took over that mantle. From Amanda and her friend's perspective, they were both leaders; Paris perhaps in sheer style, London certainly in pushing out the boundaries and being more outrageous. And of course, leading the fashion trends in London were the theatrical, artistic and publishing communities. 

As a result, Amanda's hair style was not the typical 'pulled tight to her head, parted in the middle and covering her ears fashion, which she knew she would find in America. No, for several years now, London women had been showing their ears by pulling their hair back. They had stopped using the austere flat to the head and centre parting look and instead piled the hair up onto the top of their head, letting long ringlets fall down their forehead and neck and round their ears. 

As with most women, Amanda had never had much cut from her hair so it tumbled down onto and past her shoulders. Men and women alike admired her naturally curly, beautiful, deep chestnut coloured locks. She pulled the whalebone pins and bone combs from the bun on top of her head, ran her fingers through it and then shook her head so it tumbled down in a slightly unruly, but highly provocative look. Long, wavy locks fell over her eyes and face. A shiver ran through her at the thought of Richard pulling her silken hair aside to kiss her. 

Standing, Amanda reached behind her and undid the complicated row of hooks and eyes, which ran up the back of the pale lemon, silk bodice. She slipped that off and undid and pushed down her overskirt. In keeping with leading London and Paris fashion, she was wearing a hoop that was quite complicated to remove. It was the main reason she hadn't invited Richard to her room; being undressed by a stranger could be embarrassing and very time consuming. 'Far better to do it yourself' many women believed. 

Removing the hoop she slipped out of the two petticoats she was wearing to combat the evening chill; sometimes in London's winters she would wear four or five. When she got to the plantation with its summer heat and humidity, she would only wear one and sometimes none at all. She wasn't at all looking forward to the heat.

Looking at herself in the mirror as she slipped out of both petticoats, she wished she had a maid here to help. The corset was laced tightly at the back, drawing her naturally, twenty-six inch, and very womanly waist into that of a twenty-three inch, younger female. 

She pondered a moment or two on the thought of opening her door dressed as she was: a white chemise with lace and frills round the neckline, the oyster coloured corset over that and under it, her white, cotton pantalettes, which came to just beneath her knee and had fine lace round the bottoms. Under that she was wearing black, opaque stockings, held up by a garter, which were tucked into ankle-height boots; she hadn't yet tried the new corsets with suspenders, but had some in her luggage,. 

She struggled out of the corset, removed her pale grey, kid ankle boots, then her drawers and slipped the chemmy over her head. Just wearing the dark stockings, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Even without the benefits of the corset, Amanda was curvy. Some had described her as voluptuous, others termed her Rubenesque. Whatever the description, she had a body that plunged inwards from the mounds of her full, ripe breasts to the indentation of her waist and then flared out to the delicious, roundness of her so feminine hips. 

Her stomach remained flat, and her unsuckled breasts, though sagging slightly from their own fullness and weight, stood out proud and inviting, capped by large, coral coloured areola and prominent nipples. 

Having worn corsets from her early teens, she had, in keeping with many upper class ladies of the time, an upright posture. Her perpetual straight back pushed her chest forwards emphasising the prominence of her breasts; she sometimes wished she could slouch a little! 

Amanda put her clothes away and contemplated how to greet Richard. As she was, in just her stockings, an attire that she was aware was becoming popular with men when having sex? Or perhaps in bed, sitting on it or standing, she wondered? 

On balance, she felt that being naked apart from her hosiery was a little too forward, so she slipped into another chemise. This was also white with shoulder-straps and a plunging neckline lined with broderie anglais and lace. It was in the new London style of being tighter, thinner and shorter than worn in most other countries, which certainly included the New World. 

Hence, the lace-trimmed hem came half way between the top of her legs and her knees and the outline and shadow of her nipples showed through the thin, tight bodice. 

Richard knew from experience that Amanda had suggested him waiting so that she could undress. That pleased him, for fumbling around with a woman's underwear could be so tiresome and sometimes resulted in the moment of passion passing. He knew that she would take some time, so he smoked another pipe, drank some brandy and removed his hip-length, dresscoat, waistcoat and cravat. 

His baggy, muslin shirt and tight, wool trousers were both white. He checked the doors from the dining room and his cabin to the rest of the ship, making sure they were locked, and left the room from his cabin to the dining room open. That would ensure that in the unlikely event he was wanted, he would hear the knock. 

Despite this sort of thing happening on most trips, he was surprised to find himself feeling nervous. He knew that Amanda was upper-class, hugely wealthy, extremely attractive and immensely sexy. Normally she'd be out of his league, but the confidence he had from bedding so many women would, he knew, see him through. 

'Once they'd experienced the Captain's cock, women passengers always wanted more' he smiled to himself.

He was beginning to wonder whether she had changed her mind when he saw her door opening. Heart pounding, he counted out the twenty seconds and added a few more, just in case. As he walked the few yards from the balcony of the small dining room to her room, he felt himself hardening in the tight trousers. He was ready for action and, by god, he was going to have what he wanted. 

This beautiful woman would be his greatest conquest yet!

"Come in Richard," he heard, enjoying her part British and part Deep South soft tone and accent. 

With the approaching darkness and Amanda's decision not to light any candles, the cabin was dim. As Richard opened the door, light flooded in from the dining room he was, momentarily framing him in the doorway. She gulped at how alluringly attractive he looked in the off white, tight trousers, the baggy shirt open half way down his chest, and the knee length, black leather boots. 

As he pushed the door open, Richard made his decision and pushed his erection free from his underpants and the tail of his shirt. It reared in such a masculine way right up his flat, taught stomach to edge just above his naval. He knew from the frequent nude bathing and swimming at the Royal Navy training camp that he was more well-endowed than most and, as with most men, he was proud of that. 

Amanda was in bed, covered with just a single cotton sheet. Her spectacular form was clearly outlined under it. As they looked at each and smiled, they both felt their arousal begin to peak in anticipation of what was soon to happen. 

"Hello Richard," she whispered. 

"Good evening, Amanda," he replied, covering the few yards from the door to the bed in half a dozen strides. 

"Welcome to my cabin, sir," she smiled loving the look of lust and adoration on his face as he stood beside her bed rampantly erect. 

"Thank you most kindly madam," he smiled, adding slowly, "Will you be welcoming me to anywhere else?" 

"Pray sir, what do you mean?" she teased, continuing the verbal charade as they got used to each other in a sexual as opposed to simply a flirtatious situation. Amanda was adopting the speech affectation partly as a defence mechanism against her shyness when with a man for the first time, but also as tease, maybe even a seduction technique.

His dark eyes bore into hers as he put one knee on the bed and ran the back of his fingers across her forehead and into her lustrous hair. He stroked her hair downwards, reaching the bare skin of her shoulder. They both felt the sensation as he touched her naked flesh for the first time. The outline of her breasts under the sheet suggested she was wearing a chemise. He wondered what else she wore under the thin sheet. 

Amanda was unable to hold Richard's eyes. That was not due to her being embarrassed, but was because she felt such a strong compulsion to let her gaze roam down his body. It was as if his cock was a magnet. She could not help herself from focusing on it, imagining its appearance, texture, warmth, smoothness and, of course, most excitingly its hardness pushing into her. 

Another surge of arousal roared through her.

Richard ran his fingers down the lacy shoulder strap of her chemise. He contemplated slipping them inside the material, but resisted. Instead, he took hold of the top of the sheet and lifted it slightly. 

"Maybe your bed madam, will you be welcoming me there?" 

Amanda smiled, as she now understood his earlier question. 

"Gladly sir, but without your boots, for the owner of this bed is very particular." 

"Indeed he is madam, indeed he is," Richard replied thinking, 'Oh fuck' realising how difficult it is to remove one's boots now that they were worn so tightly.

"Of course," he said pushing the side of one foot against the heel of the other, but realising he would need to sit down to remove the very tight, waterproof boots. "Bear with me one moment while I remove them." 

"Of course, but would you like some help, sir?" 

"That would be most welcome, ma'am, as normally my valet removes them and I assume you do not wish me to call him?" 

"No sir," Amanda said revelling in the light-hearted, but very meaningful and sexually charged banter. "I was rather thinking that maybe you would like me to perform his chores for you." 

"That would be a delight." 

"Then sir, please sit on the bed." 

He sat and watched totally fascinated, with rising excitement, as Amanda pushed the bedclothes back. She lay there for a moment or two, exhibiting herself to him before sliding out of the bed and standing before him. 

He had read about the shorter chemise fashion, but this was the first he had seen. It was so enormously sexy, he had never seen a partially dressed woman showing so much leg before. Nor had he, not since he and a friend had 'bought' two easy women in London, seen a woman in her stockings. 

Their blackness contrasted beautifully with the whiteness of her chemise and the paleness of her skin on her thighs. 

Amanda felt brave and confident. Her adventure on the high seas and the knowledge she was with a man she would never see again after the voyage, made her unusually forward in the sexual progress. 

She stood before him, revelling in his gaze roaming over her body clad in just the thin chemise. Unlike nearly all women's clothing of the time, it did nothing to hide her curves. Being low cut and loose with a hem that ended at mid-thigh, just inches beneath the tops of her black stockings, it also hid very little.



As she moved, her heavy breasts, swayed provocatively inside the thin cotton. Her nipples hardened under his lustful stare, making obvious indentations in the material. 

She turned her back and walked round the bed to where he was sitting, making sure her rotund, voluptuous bum wiggled and jiggled as she walked. As she leaned forward, the hem rose up her sturdy legs showing Richard an almost forbidden sight, the flesh above her stockings! 

Leaning forward and grasping his boot so the chemmy gaped, she heard him utter an involuntary gasp as her breasts hung down and he saw their ripe fullness. She looked up and their glances caught.

His boots came off easier than either imagined. Quickly they were lying beside the bed and Amanda was standing between his opened knees. They stared at each other, both aware that the flirting and charade of earlier had ended. Now was the real thing, and both were more than ready.

He reached out and rested his hands on her hips. "Kiss me Amanda?" he asked, both of them being only too aware that would mean she had to lean forward. She did and their mouths converged. He broke the kiss fairly quickly to look at the spectacular sight of her breasts hanging down in front of his face. 

His cock lurched. They were truly magnificent! He simply had to touch them.

Amanda looked into his eyes as she dangled her breasts invitingly in front of him. She knew precisely why he had asked her to kiss him and she was most willing to comply with his request. Her breasts were aching for his touch. When that came, her body jerked with pleasure and she groaned with satisfaction. 

As they kissed again, Richard slowly ran his hands up from her hips, along her sides, round to her front, inside the gaping, low-cut top of the chemise and right onto the warm, smooth flesh of her two symmetrically, delicious orbs. 

For both the man and woman, the first touch of his hands on the bare flesh of her breasts is very special. It's not only such a dekicious feeling for both parties, but also such a strong indicator of her willingness to give herself to him.

For the woman, the hardening of her nipples indicates her willingness for him to go further as she offers her body and flesh to him. For the man, it is a further step towards invading her body. For both of them it is an explosion of sheer fucking pleasure that rushes through their bodies, causing her female juices to flow and his pre-cum to ooze out from his hardened cock. 

As Richard cupped and squeezed her breasts, Amanda knew she might cum just from his touch. So immense were the feelings after such a long time, it was very a close thing. But she fought the feelings, whilst at the same time revelling in what this man, her soon to be new lover, was doing to her body. 

"Oh God," she groaned holding his face in her hands and kissing him as deep as she could. 

"Amanda, your breasts are wonderful," he sighed, one of his hands scrambling to find the hem of the chemise. "Let me see them, I want them." 

His words made Amanda want to flaunt herself at him. Catching his hands in the top, she stood up. Looking right into his eyes with as provocative a gaze as Richard had seen in many a year, she took hold of the mid-thigh hem of the chemise and whispered, "Your word is my command Captain." 

Slowly she pulled the garment up her body. Past her stocking tops, across the patch of skin above them, over her tawny, quite lustrous, pubic hair, through which her pink lips glistened so invitingly, up her flat stomach, narrow waist and lower chest and then marvellously over her big tits. Pulling it over her head, Amanda shook her hair making her breasts wobble in the most erotic manner. 

"Well, sir?" she teasingly whispered, striking a highly provocative pose with one knee bent and one hand on her hip with her crotch thrust out towards him. She felt so wonderfully saucy, a feeling exacerbated by being nearly fully exposed before this, almost, fully dressed sea captain. 

"If, madam," he said quietly doing nothing but running his gaze up and down the near naked figure of his passenger, "the 'well' refers to my impression of your body, then the answer is you are beautiful, your body is magnificent and you are arouse me completely." 

"Good," she smiled, running the palms of her hands lightly across her hardened nipples. 

"But if, madam, the 'well' refers to what next, to what I would like to do next...?" 

"Yes Captain it does that too," she interrupted with a delicious giggle. 

"Then, Missus Williams, I intend to have the pleasure of fucking you right here and now. Tell me, ma'am. Would you like to be well and truly fucked by your Captain?" 

Another, deeper, surge of arousal ran through Amanda. It wasn't a question that needed a spoken answer. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Richard full on the lips. In a few seconds his cock would be inside her and after seven months of abstinence, she'd willingly abandon herself to the sexual whims of this experienced sea dog. 

Naked, apart from her stockings, Amanda broke the kiss and stepped back two paces. With graceful ease, she performed a deep curtsy, of the type she had learned before being introduced to Queen Victoria last year. Placing her right foot slightly apart from the left, with the toes on level with the heel on her left foot, she bent both knees, slowly going further and further downwards until her right knee almost touched the floor.

Her rotund bottom stuck out invitingly behind and her breasts, now seeming to be presented to the floor, hung down from her chest emphasising their weight and size and seeming to cry out for a hand or two to cup them.

Richard watched this fascinating display combining the extreme etiquette of a royal bow, with the near nudity of a soon to be lover, with increasing excitement. 

"Humbly sir, may I have your permission to speak my mind?" she asked provocatively.

"Of course madam, pray do," Richard answered, his throat dry and his voice croaky with excitement. 

Amanda looked up from her position of supplication, caught and held Richard's gaze and said in a measured, calm and confident voice. "Then with your kind permission sir, I humbly advise that you fucking me will provide me with the greatest of pleasures." 

Hearing such a word as 'fucking' slip from between her lovely lips was an enormous turn on. It was so rare in his world, but not so in the one that Amanda had inhabited, for a lady to swear at all, let alone talk about herself being fucked. 

He felt his already hard cock grow another couple of inches "Would madam remain bowed like that?" he asked.




Savannah 01



"Of course, sir, madam is at your command. But pray sir," she added as she saw him stand up. "If I may be so bold to ask, why?" 

She watched as Richard's fingers undid the tie round his waist and then the bone buttons of his flies. 

"Because of this madam," he said sliding his trousers and drawers down and stepping out of them. 

Amanda was disappointed that his long muslin shirt covered his manhood.

"I see," she muttered, not being able to think of anything wittier, due to her level of excitement mounting as she watched the tail of his shirt slowly rising up his body as he lifted it over his head.

His cock was everything it had promised to be when she had seen the outline under his trousers. It was awesomely sturdy and respectably long. Neither Samuel nor Bernard was particularly well endowed, certainly not to the girth of Richard. In fact, only one of Amanda's lovers, the prize-fighter, Jeb Stones, who it was rumoured had mixed blood and was what society in London called a half-caste, had been. 

'And boy had he?' Amanda often thought reminiscing about the amazing feeling of being stretched to what seemed tearing point; of being filled to overflowing and of having something so long that it felt as if it would rupture something. 

She also thought, deep down, that once a woman has experienced being 'fully stuffed,' as she had with Jeb several times, it was something that she would just have to repeat, or at least yearn for during the rest of her sexually active life. Looking at Richard's splendid manhood, although not quite of the size of Jeb's, she realised that her yearning was about to be satisfied. 

He moved closer so that his cock was level with her face and his balls were hanging down beneath her chin. He edged forward further until it was just inches from her eyes and she could see the smaller as well as the larger pulsating veins and sinews. Her breath caught in her throat as his hands found her head and his fingers went into the lush mass of chestnut hair. 

In response, her hands found his slender hips, her fingernails digging into the softer flesh of his taught, pert buttocks. 

She looked up into his eyes. He smiled. She smiled back. 

Still curtsying in front of the ship's captain, she watched as he slowly thrust his hips forward until the warm, smooth hardness of his erection pressed right against her cheeks, her mouth, and her face. 

She reached up, took it in her hands, pulled it so it was nearly horizontal and with a growl, she opened her lips and licke up the length of his cock.

It seemed the most natural thing to do. Amanda didn't even consider that Richard might find it a bit forward. It didn't enter her mind that he would not want it. It didn't occur to her for one moment that he wouldn't want her to suck his cock. So she did and found out very quickly that it was precisely what he did want. He adored oral, but in the rather closeted world of his betrothed, his young mistress and the few passengers he seduced it was not that common; it was though in Amanda's world. 

She didn't make him cum, that wasn't the idea, well not yet. But she did everything else that her time mixing with actors and other creative people had taught her. She licked his length. She ran the tip of her tongue round his foreskin, wetting the purple head and easing the foreskin back. She ran her tongue from the tip, right down the back of it onto, round and then under his balls. She licked them, she took one, then the other and then both into her mouth and gently sucked them. 

Now kneeling with Richard bending forward so he could get to her, she pulled his cock almost parallel to the ground. She licked it again and then, looking into his eyes she slowly sank his cock right into her mouth. 

Richard simply adored being fellated. Unfortunately, most women he met either did not do it, or if they did, they were too rough. Amanda was perfect. By an enormous margin, it was the best fellatio he had ever received. He toyed with simply grabbing her head pulling it towards him and then vigorously fucking her mouth. But he didn't, he left her in control and, instead, reached down and found her glorious, naked breasts. 

"I think you had best stop now, madam," he eventually gasped, the tide of arousal dangerously gathering in his balls. 

"And pray sir, why is that?" she teasingly asked.

"Because you sexy, horny, little bitch you'll make me cum if you don't" 

"And, my Captain," she said with a twinkle in her eyes "Pray what harm would there be in that?" 

"No harm," he grunted, helping her stand up, pulling her naked breasts against his hairy chest and pressing his hard cock firmly against her belly. "But madam, your captain needs and wants to fuck you first."

"Mmmm, but may I enquire my Captain what you mean by first?" Amanda smiled, kissing him and running her fingertips up and down his cock, bringing more sighs and moans from the aroused man who replied.

"Madam, you will see and you will not be disappointed I promise you that."

She walked over to the high bed with the feather mattress, climbed up onto it and laid in the middle knowing the moment was nigh when her celibacy was to end. Her frustration was enormous, her need for sex was extreme as Richard joined her on the bed and lay beside her. 

The feeling then, as his cock slid into her was amazing. It was like finding sex for the first time. She had forgotten just how wonderful a sensation it was to have a man push himself deeply inside her, filling her, seemingly consuming her and, yes, stuffing her to overflowing. 

Amanda quickly found that Richard was a good lover. He was energetic, considerate and creative. He combined using his hands and fingers with his mouth and tongue and, of course, his gorgeous cock. As a consequence, when he fucked Amanda that first, and wonderfully every, time she was pleasantly surprised to have so many parts of her body being stimulated at the same time. 

She opened her legs so he could snuggle down between them, his cock resting firmly on her pubic mound. Due to its angle it bent round a bit so that the broad base, near where it became his scrotum, was pressed right against her clitoris, sending lovely feelings through her. 

Occasionally breaking the kiss to lick or suck the other's lips, Amanda's entire mouth was being stimulated. Richard had one hand on her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and pinching the firm rubberyness of her bloated nipples, sending more and more sensations through her. Once he had slid his cock into her and allowed her insides to accustom themselves to its bulky visitor, her entire stomach seemed to explode with sensations. 

And then he fucked her!

He didn't restrict his ministrations to those things, but slithered his other hand underneath her, down her back and slipped his finger into the crease of her bottom, pressing right on her anus. "Oh God," she groaned recalling how partial Sir Bernard was to anal sex of all descriptions.

It took little time for him to give her the first orgasm. That surprised Richard, for he assumed a woman as sexually sophisticated as Amanda would have had much longer staying powers. Yet within only a few moments, her body was shaking, her head was rolling from side to side and she was moaning and grunting. Her fingers dug into his back and her legs came up and wrapped themselves round his hips, gripping him tightly. 

"Oh God, oh my God, yes, yes, yes" Amanda moaned as those marvellous feeling roared through her. 

"Yes Amanda, yes, cum for me," he encouraged, his arousal increased by the way she almost lost herself in her rising orgasm. He held his cock rigid inside her, forcing it as deeply into her as possible and letting her ride that through the tempestuous few moments of her first, of what he knew would be many, climaxes. 

She finished as quickly as she had begun. 

"Oh that was amazing," she murmured, pulling him into a deep kiss before staring into his eyes once more. Her fingers ran up and down his back and into his hair. 

He ran his hand across her face pushing the locks of lustrous, deep brown hair away for her green eyes. 

"I love watching a woman cum." 

Amanda felt embarrassed. It was unlike her to cum so quickly, but then she had never gone so long without full sex before. 

"It's been some time," she smiled to Richard, kissing him. "Thank you, it was wonderful." 

"Good," he replied, slowly starting to move inside her. "Ready for another?" 

"Mmmmm, yessss," Amanda replied, quickly picking up his rhythm and matching him thrust for thrust. 

This time she didn't cum quickly or too soon. This time he fucked her for at least twenty minutes. All right she came again mid-way through, as well as with him at the end. 

This time he not only attended to all those places he had before, but also moved their position. From being on top of her between her spread legs, to rolling onto their sides, then having her on top of him to then being on their other sides. Then back to him on top, her with her legs closed, opened wide, wrapped round his waist and then lifted up by him and put over his shoulders. 

For a first fuck it was magnificent. It set a standard for the rest of the voyage. A standard they maintained with joy and enthusiasm for its duration. 

***

It took forty-two days for the Western Spirit to cross the North Atlantic. 

After that first momentous evening when she and Richard had made love nearly all night, Amanda had changed her onboard clothing quite considerably. Recognising that her fellow passengers were extremely boring, and then discovering that Richard's two officers were sleeping together, she spent a great deal of her time in her own cabin and on its balcony. 

She would, generally, breakfast with the other passengers, dressing formally but without the hoop cage and wearing a simpler, straighter dress. In London, that was so very out of fashion it would have been unthinkable for her to be seen by anyone without her hoops, but here on the ship, that sort of fashion demand did not seem important. Often, with just her chemise, one petticoat and pantaloons under it, she would sometimes also dispense with her corset. 

At other times she would wear the corset without the chemise, thus having the feel of that against her bare skin. For most women that would have been an unknown sensation, but again the London scene had been experimental with that and Amanda had become accustomed to the feel of the harsh materials of her corset on her skin and breasts.

After breakfast, when the weather was clement, she would stroll the upper deck at the rear of the ship where a visit by the crew required an officer's permission. Perhaps doing a little needlepoint or reading, she would mostly write her, as she termed it, 'red blooded Jane Austen.' Occasionally, during the mornings she would complete her diary or write letters for mailing when they reached America. 

Retiring to her room before lunch, Amanda tended to remove her dress and lay for an hour or so in her underwear. Knowing that following lunch she would most likely have sex with Richard, she prepared herself for his visit. Sometimes wearing just her chemise and stockings, others just her corset and pantaloons, Amanda became increasingly adventurous. As they approached the Eastern Seaboard of America and the end of their journey, she wore her most daring outfits. Just a corset, then just her pantelettes and then on the last wonderful afternoon she went naked under her silk dress. 

It all felt so liberating and outrageously sexy! But deeper down she was very aware that this was a 'last fling' before the restrictions of the deep south's conservative social scene would be upon her.

Apart from two days when inclement weather meant that Richard had more important things to attend to, they had sex daily. It was usually an afternoon quickie and then, depending on his watch, an evening or an all night session, like that first time. Amanda was as sexually satisfied as she'd ever been.

That made her arrival in Norfolk all the more difficult to cope with. She toyed with the idea of taking another ship down to Savannah, but was advised by the owner of the hotel where she relaxed for a few days, that the new railroad which ran through Raleigh and Charleston on its way to Savannah and then onto New Orleans, was faster and more interesting. 

She cabled her brother, Adam, who had returned to the plantation a few weeks earlier, advising him of her changed plans and suggesting that they meet in Savannah. 

'Maybe our last chance of some 'civilisation' for some time!' she'd added. 

His quick reply agreeing with both that and meeting her there, cheered her up immensely. Since landing in Norfolk and bidding farewell to Richard, the prospect of the dank humidity of Georgia and the loneliness of life on the plantation was seriously depressing her. With the surrealism of the ocean crossing, she had been able to put the future out of her mind. She'd had other things to occupy her, largely Captain Jarvis and his gorgeous cock. God, she already missed him and that so much. 

Several times as she lay in Richard's arms after their always wonderful sex, he had warned her about the troubled times that lie ahead for cotton plantations and the whole South. "Prices are bound to drop so be careful," he had cautioned.

Before leaving London, Amanda had read about the talk of secession, particularly by South Carolina, but hadn't realised just how serious it was for now, several States including Georgia were near to leaving the Union. The Union envoy to London, who she and Samuel had got to know well had told them about a relatively unknown lawyer in Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, who was tipped to become the becoming the Republican Party candidate for the presidential elections in 1860, He was violently anti-slavery. So events were combining to create some worrying circumstances. 

On the train journey to Savannah, Amanda was amazed at the topics of conversation and the intensity of feelings regarding the progress that certain events had made. It seemed that secession by several was inevitable and that some form of retaliation against the South was becoming an inevitability. 

On several occasions she even heard the dreaded, almost unthinkable term 'civil war' mentioned. 

Although she'd been dreading the four-day train journey, Amanda was pleasantly surprised. It did get warmer the further south they travelled, but, being early November, the humidity had gone. In Norfolk, she'd stocked up on clothing, particularly buying cotton underwear, chemises, pantaloons and petticoats. The European fashion and most of the time the weather, dictated that flannel, wool and muslin were the more popular materials for ladies underwear, but they were far too warm for the heat and humidity of Georgia. Fortunately the increasing trade with far away countries such as China was introducing, newer, lighter, thinner and cooler materials including silk that was being used for both outer and welcomingly, under garments as well.

The climate and the often dreadful smell from the river Thames were the only aspects of London that Amanda had found distasteful. Most of the year, apart from July and August she, along with most women, would wear a number of petticoats under the hoop, for warmth. It was a pleasure and a freedom, therefore, on the train journey south to be able to cut back to just one petticoat as she had on the Western Spirit. 

She arrived in Savannah fifty-three days after catching the Great Western train from the newly opened Paddington Station in London. It had been a long, eventful and, she freely admitted, a highly pleasurable journey.

As the train pulled into the recently completed Savannah railway station, the thought of Captain Richard Jarvis's cock came into her mind for some reason and she felt a surge of wetness between her legs. She wondered ruefully as she luxuriated in that pleasant sensation, when she would next have the chance to enjoy a man as much as she had enjoyed the Captain.



Savannah 02



Author's note

Thanks to all who added comments on the site and emailed me. Also thanks to those of you who gave the story such high marks.

I have published this second part more quickly than I probably will subsequent episodes, which I aim to submit to Lit every ten days or so.

I am sorry about the errors in the first part, especially literals. Editing is not my strong point, but I have tried harder with this and will continue doing so in future.

Thanks

Georgie

**********************************************

Stopping at both Raleigh and Charleston for a night, the four hundred or so miles trip passed quite pleasantly. Adam met her at the train. 

"God he's handsome," she reminded herself, not having seen her brother for three years when he had visited her in London. 

Adam had inherited his mother's artistic side and not the commercial nature of their father. Amanda had more commercial acumen, but was also an artist at heart. Both had taken on the warmth of their mother and not the hardness of their father. 

Her brother had left the South, just as Amanda had. Following four years at Harvard, and graduating Phi Beta Kappa in fine arts and history, he could not bear the thought of being 'culturally buried' at the plantation. Additionally, he felt little affiliation with where he had been raised. 

What with Florence's 'Yankee' propaganda during his childhood and the eight years he had spent in New York and Boston at school and university, his perspective, attitudes and whole range of views were far more in tune with Northern thinking than that of the South. He had never expected to return to the Deep South, other than on visits. 

After Harvard, he had worked in an art gallery in Boston for a year or so, before moving to New York to join an eminent firm of artwork auctioneers. With the inheritance he gained when granny O'Rourke, Florence's mother, had died ten years ago, he set up his own gallery on Madison Avenue right in the centre of Manhattan. Whilst it had enjoyed only varying levels of modest financial success, it had been absolutely fantastic as an entrance to, and a way of maintaining a position in, New York's social scene. 

So, as Amanda and Samuel had been in London, Adam was in New York, right at the heart of the heart of the trendy, sophisticated, artistic and creative set. 

He had studied at Harvard for four years from when he was twenty-two. Florence and granny O'Rourke had paid his fees, his father thinking that most education, other than business related subjects, was a waste of time and learning about art and history was totally pointless. 

Adam loved the student way of life. The whole idea of education purely for enjoyment and for learning's sake appealed to his intellectual and creative philosophy. The partying, drinking and mild drug taking played to his hedonistic aspirations and the reasonably ready supply of sex satisfied the constant needs of his flesh. 

It was at Harvard that he met Guy, a French Canadian also studying fine art. They got on well, they helped each other with their studies and partied together. They became almost inseparable and a force to be reckoned with by the increasing number of female students at the nearby Lasiter University for ladies. They went whoring together in downtown Boston in the area that later became known as the 'combat zone' and to the many opium dens around Quincy Market and the harbour. 

They also had sex together!

It had been accidental. Neither had experienced gay sex before. Neither had really thought about it; it just didn't register with either of them that they would be attracted to another man. And in a way they weren't. It was the buzz, the turn on, the thrill, the adventure, the taboo and experiencing the forbidden that attracted them. 

They were in Guy's apartment. They were discussing whether to go and smoke some opium or visit a nearby, upscale brothel. 

"It's very cold outside, I think it might even snow." Guy said. 

"Shall we stay in then?" Adam asked. 

"Yes, shall we?" 

"Why not, we've got some booze left." Adam said brightly, for they had been drinking brandy most of the afternoon. They were both slightly drunk. 

"No dope though." Guy said gloomily. 

"Or women." Adam commented. 

"I'm getting fed up with whores, even those at the Craven," Guy responded, referring to the brothel they had thought of visiting.

"I know what you mean," Adam replied, walking over to where Guy was sitting on the floor in front of the blazing fire, poured more brandy into his friend's glass. He stood there in his tight, white breeches, no boots or socks and his lacy, white shirt undone almost all the way down the front, looking down at his similarly dressed friend. "They rarely turn out to be as good as they look," he added, loving the warmth from the fire on his thighs and stomach. 

"No, but then I can't be bothered chasing the Lasiter bitches who lead you on then won't get their drawers off for you," Guy sneered.

Adam nodded as he slid down beside his friend on the floor, feeling an unexpected thrill as their legs touched. "Fucking women," he muttered, sipping his brandy and not moving away even though their hips were now also pressed together. He was well aware that he'd instigated the physical contact, but wasn't sure why. The trembling he felt inside also told him that Guy had made no effort to move away.

Instead, he laughed. "That used to be my hobby." 

"What did?" 

"Fucking women of course," Guy told him, flashing his eyes across at his friend. He and Adam often had this sort of cosy chat, but not with any physical contact between them. 

"Who needs 'em?" Adam slurred, reaching up and pushing away the thick lock of black hair that continually fell over his eyes. 

"Not us, mon ami," Guy said, casually resting his hand on his friend's leg, midway between his knee and groin. He hadn't meant to, had he? It was as if some sort of external force controlled it. 

Adam shivered. It was as though a hot poker had been placed on his thigh. His whole body was tingling at the contact. Did Guy feel the same? Was his friend's cock beginning to lengthen, just like his own? What the hell was happening?

For a while, neither spoke. Only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the otherwise empty air as they sipped their Cognac. Both of them jerked and then remained still. Neither wanted to disturb the other. Neither wanted the feelings to go away, but neither felt able to say or do anything. Something was happening between them, and neither would or could admit it.

They remained like that for some time, leaning back against a chesterfield, their legs stretched out towards the fire, their tight trousers emphasising their respectable bulges, their shirts open almost to their waists.

Guy's hand almost imperceptibly moved on Adam's leg, and then stopped. The sound of their heavy breathing increased as the possibilities being presented to them slowly dawned on them both.

They both turned their heads at the same time. Their eyes met. They simply looked at each other, enquiringly on one hand, invitingly on the other. They didn't speak, neither could find the words to express their feelings, but somehow they communicated the same message to each other. 

The feelings were not like those when with a girl. They didn't feel tenderness, they weren't seeking a sensitive, caring relationship. It was purely sexual.

But sexual of a sort neither had experienced before. They couldn't understand it nor could they explain it. That didn't matter. All that was of concern was satisfying this new found sexual inquisitiveness, giving vent to the adventure they felt and experiencing the buzz of going outside their sexuality comfort zone. 

Guy's hand moved again, softly sliding up Adam's leg. Not all the way, not to where he wanted to put it and not to where Adam wanted it, but far enough to indicate his intent; sufficient so that, with just the merest further movement, the side of his hand would nestle against the bulge of his friend's balls. Adam's leg began to shake uncontrollably under his friend's touch. 

In a croaky voice that Adam had never heard before, Guy suddenly broke the silence. "Would you like to remove your shirt, Adam?" 

His words burst over Adam. They were simple words, but meant so much. They carried a reassuring message, telling his friend that their feelings, needs, desires and lust were in tune with one another. 

"Why don't we both undress?" was Adam's reply. It surprised Guy. It surprised Adam, too. With it, he was accepting Guy's invitation to experiment with their sexuality. 

***

"Hello darling," Amanda said, as she stepped down the steps from the train at the main station near to River Street, in Savannah. 

"Amanda, it's so wonderful to see you. You look fantastic," Adam gushed to his sister. 

She really did look wonderful, too. Her long, thick, chestnut-coloured hair that was piled up on top of her head, with ringlets falling down by her ears, neck and forehead was so different to the parted in the middle, austere look that was still popular in Boston and New York and of course around dreary Georgia. 

The pale blue, silk dress with a wide hoop accentuated both her beauty and her body. The bodice was tight with a high neckline and a frilly collar that touched the bottom of her chin. It was pushed out in such erotic curves by the fullness of her breasts and by the way that her usual twenty-six inch waist was pinched in by her corset to a highly fashionable twenty-three inches. 

That, together with the very upright posture encouraged by her corset, exaggerated the size of his sister's breasts and the flair of her hips. My God, her figure looked so amazingly feminine. As they embraced and kissed, her full breasts squashed against his chest. 

Adam was horrified to find himself becoming erect - surely that was all behind them? 

They took a carriage to the Eliza Thompson Guest House in what had become known as the Garden District of Savannah. With the price of cotton on a seemingly endless upward trend, until the very recent slump, which most were terming a 'blip', Savannah had been booming. The cotton barons had latched onto the elegant squares and beautiful gardens of, what was considered to be, America's first 'planned' city and had built impressive mansions in the area. 

Oglethorpe had set the scene well all those years ago. 

They went to their rooms to rest after their travels and agreed to meet for dinner at seven. Right on the dot, Adam tapped on his sister's door. She was waiting for him in a similar style gown to that she'd worn on her arrival, but this was a pale, smoky pink. 

His gaze immediately went straight to her magnificent, half uncovered breasts. 

In America, such a sight was something only shared by husbands and wives, and then usually with the lamps out. Yet for some time in Europe, the necklines of gowns, in the evening especially, had been dropping. In the set where Amanda had moved it was often only a few ruffles of lace that prevented the tops of a woman's areola being seen. 

Adam had heard and had seen lithographs of European fashions, but had not realised just how extreme it had become. 

Meeting his sister's eyes, it seemed she was almost flaunting her well-endowed swells at him. The familiar stirrings in his tight, tailored grey pin-stripe trousers returned and his mind went back to the times he had seen those breasts in all their wonderful female glory. 

"As we have so many confidential topics to discuss Adam, I thought it would be preferable to dine in a private room, I hope you agree," Amanda said as she walked out onto the landing in her voluminous hooped skirt. The bulk made it difficult for her to get through the door of her room and she gave one of her delightful giggles. 

"Of course Amanda, whatever you say," he replied, smiling at her laugh. He remembered it so well, and it put him at ease, so he easily fell into the older sister, younger brother roles they had shared most of their lives. 

They had a delightful dinner catching up on their lives, before moving onto discussing the plantation. Both were agreed that they did not want to stay there permanently and would prefer to sell it as soon as possible. 

"But can we with all that's going on?" Adam asked, swilling back more wine. 

Amanda had no answer to that. They both knew how difficult that could be. "Let's wait and see when we get to Selby shall we?" she eventually replied. It was a problem for tomorrow, not now.

"Yes of course," Adam replied, dreading the prospect of living on the plantation. The damn thing was miles away from anything he would consider as 'civilisation.' 

And that, of course, meant away from a social scene of parties, drinking, dope, girls, hookers and now, occasionally other men. Although he knew he was not homosexual, he was well aware he needed the buzz of a variety of sexual opportunities. His appetite for sex was huge and he was greedy, he was adventurous and he just could not get enough, of both men and women. 

Yes, he knew that he could have an almost endless supply of black, slave women, but like the Boston hookers, they did not appeal. 

He needed other things. The forbidden. Just like the one he'd found with Guy that marvellous snowy night all those years ago, but which he could recall as if it was yesterday.

***

Without breaking eye contact, Adam and Guy lifted their long, baggy muslin shirts up and over their heads. Dropping them on the floor they stared hungrily at each other's chests. Adam may have been slimmer than Guy, but both had well-formed muscles and neither carried much excess weight. Guy was fairly hairy, Adam had little bodily hair. 

"Everything?" Guy said in a thick voice, pushing himself up on one elbow as he lay on the floor. His face came close to the kneeling Adam's waist. 

Adam felt his heart pounding. He knew where this was heading and was powerless to prevent it. "Yes, shall we?" he croaked. 

He watched breathlessly as Guy's fingers reached down to the drawstring at his waist. He silently followed his friend's lead. They both undid the buttons and studied each other intently as they slid their trousers down and off. Now, just in the long pants both of them could see that they were as erect as the other. It was as if someone had switched on an electric current, a force field of desire circling the room. Both pairs of eyes homed in on the other's rampant form as they removed their pants. 

It was Guy who took the lead, reaching out to slide his hand, which was damp with perspiration, onto Adam's trembling hip. The pressure his fingers applied indicated that Adam should come nearer and lie beside him. As nervous as he was, Adam responded instantly, matching Guy's posture as they lay on their sides facing each other, hungrily staring into each other's eyes.

Neither could help it as their eyes occasionally left one another's to run, almost apprehensively, up and down the other's body. As neither was a particularly strong or dominant character when it came to sex, they were unsure what to do next. How could they be? Neither man had been in such a position with another male before. 

But as is so often the way, their instincts took over. Their intuitions, which had been tuned by so many women and honed by the desire for experimentation clicked in. They forgot they were men. As their bodies touched and as their arms instinctively went round each other, they pushed the taboo thought of forbidden male on male sex out of their minds. 

Their cocks touched, like two swordsmen engaged in a duel. Their entire focus was on sex. Not hetero, gay or bi, just sex. Just the need for it, for adventure, for the buzz and for something different. 

Sex is sex, does it have to be genderised they were thinking, as they felt for the first time a hard cock pressed against their bellies? 

Instinctively, they ground their bodies together, just as they would with a woman. There was no disguising the difference. There were no curves, smoothness or soft flesh. Instead, there was the slight roughness of the other's hairs, the firmness of their bodies and the sensational hardness of their, soon to be, lover's prick. 

Without even thinking, both pairs of hand slid downwards. They found what they were seeking and revelled in the arousing sensation of holding another man's hardened cock in their hands. 

Their faces closed as they both held their partner's dick in one hand and cradled their balls in the other. It just came so easily and naturally, as if they had both read the same instruction manual. Stroking and gently squeezing the other's scrotum they started to slowly masturbate each other. 

As experienced as they were, and as sophisticated as they thought themselves to be with women, they were rank beginners with each other. With women, they could last for ages, often giving their partners many orgasms before they eventually came themselves. This was different.

Hardly had they started masturbating each other when both knew they would cum very quickly. The tingling in their balls, the pressure in their cock and the need for release, both physically and emotionally, combined to send a surge through their bodies that couldn't be resisted.

"Oh God," Adam groaned, thrusting his cock hard in Guy's hand, the bulbous end pushing through it and pressing on his friends stomach. 

Guy knew immediately what was happening. He was moments away, too. "Mon dieu, oh yes. Oh, Adam," he moaned, thrusting back. Maybe they could cum at the same time? 

"Oh fuck, I've never felt anything like this," Adam grunted. His head moved involuntarily. So did Guy's. Then they were kissing, full on the lips. Both stopped for a second, wondering if they may have gone too far. The other's lustful gaze reassured them and in an instant they were kissing again, lips squirming against each other's and their tongues sliding into one another's mouth. 

Aroused and reassured that the feelings were totally mutual, they surged their cocks harder and faster in the other's hand. The kiss deepened, becoming stronger and more urgent, until they were grunting and pushing their tongues deep into the each other's mouth. Now it was just like being with a girl. Not just the kissing and the tonguing, but also the thrusting and surging, the rush of sensations all over their bodies and, mostly, the way that their stunningly hard cocks were fucking the surrogate cunt provided by the other's inviting hand. 

They exploded simultaneously, their spunk splattering onto the other's cock and belly. 

For a moment they stared at one another, wondering at what they'd done, but almost instantly they fell onto their backs panting and started giggling. 

"Well, well, well, young man," Guy breathed heavily. "That gives us an alternative to whores and Lasiter bitches doesn't it? 



***

In the pleasant low eighty degree temperature of Georgia in November, the thirty miles or so ride in the open top carriage to Meldrim was very pleasant, particularly as much of the way was alongside the lovely, slow flowing Ogeechee River with its abundance of birds and wonderful trees and plants. 

'Mmmmm, maybe it's not so bad," Amanda found herself thinking, reluctantly.

Amanda and Adam arrived at the plantation just before six in the evening, their excitement building as they drove up the oak lined half mile drive from the road. It was, after all, where they had been born and had spent their childhoods. 

Their earliest memories were mainly warm and comforting, but as each had developed more sophisticated approaches to life, so Selby Bluff had become somewhere they resented. And now they were back there! 

The three storey, ten bedroomed mansion house had lain empty for several months and as the carriage pulled up outside they felt mixed emotions. Neither spoke as the driver opened the door and placed the steps for them to climb down. Both of them had been away so long they didn't know the man who had driven them, nor the footman who opened the door to the house. 




Savannah 02



It was only when the maids, cooks, and general helpers came out and lined up that they both recognised some of the family's slaves and servants. 

Amanda had dressed conservatively, realising that London and European fashions had not yet reached New York and Boston, let alone Savannah. Last night had been a massive mistake. Although they ate in a private dining room and despite the guesthouse staff being as diplomatic as they could be, she was aware of their stares. The male waiters and the maitre'd could hardly contain themselves and when they sat on the balcony with some of the other guests, the eyes of the male guests seemed to be popping out. 

The resultant stares from their mostly, austere looking wives had been too much for Amanda. 

"I think we should go inside," she had said to Adam after just a few minutes of enduring the uncomfortable looks of disdain. She was not shy, but recognised that flashing so much of her bosom was wrong, or at least undiplomatic in this setting. 'Savannah was not ready for Amanda's tits yet' she laughed to herself as she and Adam retired to her room for a nightcap. 

Although, beautifully appointed, the second floor room was quite small. It did, though, have French windows opening onto a tiny balcony, which really wasn't large enough to sit out on, especially in the latest fashion of huge hooped skirts. Instead, there were two chairs with a low table just in front of the open French windows. Within a few seconds, a rather aged waiter brought a jug of red wine and two glasses. 

Adam stood and poured the drink as his sister, leaning forward a little, held her glass out for him. Even had he not wanted to, and he was not that shocked to find that he did, Adam could not have avoided seeing Amanda's deep cleavage. Her corset held her back ramrod straight, resulting in the slight forward incline of her body from the waist plunging her magnificent breasts forward. At the same, time the firm corset pushed them up and together, creating a beautifully enticing crease between. 

The London fashion of having frilly lace along the neckline of the dress, cut as daringly low as possible, meant that from some angles an onlooker was afforded a glimpse of the lady's areola, something that just never happened in America. This evening, though, it was happening in Savannah and Adam found it enormously difficult to tear his eyes away from the patches of pink, the deep crease and the expanse of powdered, soft and yielding flesh that swayed deliciously as his sister moved. 

Amanda was only too well aware that Adam was staring at her breasts. He had she knew been staring at them at every opportunity since she had walked down the steps from the train. Smiling, she reminded herself that he'd actually been staring at them for years. 

She was well aware that in the time since they had last been together in London, her breasts had grown into wonderful, round, peaches. They were like magnets with men, whose eyes invariable greeted them even as their mouths said hello to her eyes whilst their lips touched the back of her hand.

She was used to it and, in many ways, enjoyed the attention.

Some part of her had wondered if Adam would be the same when she saw him again. She was well aware of his fetish for breasts, any breasts, but especially hers. The way she had cradled his head to them as she comforted him seemed a long time ago. So did the way, in their late teens, he would continually stare 

at them, hypnotised by her twin delights. That wasn't all, of course, and she gave a soft sigh as she hurriedly put to the back of her mind the other things that had happened between them. 

It took some time to greet all the slaves and staff, particularly nanny Goldie who had looked after both of them when they were young. Then they met with Overseer Nathan Stevens. The fifty odd-year old had been born on the plantation and had worked there all his life. He had been their father's right hand man and had been running it since he had died.

It took some time for him to bring them both up to date with the plantation business. The financial side of it was okay, he said, but was inevitably deteriorating due to the cotton yield per acre declining in recent years. 

"The slaves work slower," he explained, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. 

A quick tour followed. It was one that struck apprehension into the brother and sister. The clear signs of neglect would never have been allowed when they were younger. Uncut lawns, overgrowing shrubs, white fences where the paint was peeling and holes in the roadways round the estate, all spoke volumes. 

They'd have their work cut out to make this work, let alone sell it for top dollar, Amanda was thinking.

***

Over the next few weeks they familiarised themselves with the slaves, the staff and the plantation, learning as much about the business side of it as possible. 

.

"We need to reach a decision by Christmas" Amanda had insisted to Adam. They had agreed that they had three options: keep running it and live there, be absentee owners or sell it. 

"The heavy planting season is late January, so that's our deadline," Amanda firmly told him. 

Of course, it didn't work out like that. How could such a far-reaching decision be made in such a short time? 

Not with them having to re-familiarise themselves with the area and their neighbours, the modest social life of Meldrim and the whirl of that in Savannah. Not with Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year to celebrate. Not with them having to learn about the running of a plantation that had simply been taken for granted all those years. 

And not, especially, with them being in the South, where time almost stood still and change took so long. 

It was soon February and well into the planting season before the subject came up again. Mister Stevens had continued to run efficiently the hands-on work, but an air of dissatisfaction across the land was forcing their hand.

Throughout the spring, both of them came to realise that the rumbles of discontent from the Yankees were very serious indeed. Their affiliation was very much in that camp, rather than with their southern brethren. Wisely they kept that very much to themselves, but it did cast a shadow over them that was difficult to remove.

Both brother and sister had maintained correspondence with friends and fellow students from their times in the north, and with Amanda's contacts in Europe. It was from those sources, rather than the people they mixed with in Georgia, that they learned just how seriously the north considered the slavery problem, was rather 'brushed under the carpet' in the states below the Mason Dixon line.

It was Amanda's suggestion to take a trip to the north, to experience at first hand the feeling that was building up and find out more about what they should do with Selby Bluff. Although they were both dreading the enormously depressing humidity and heat of the summer, they knew that they should be at Selby Bluff for the harvesting of the crop. That dictated the months of June and some of July for their travels.

***

Amanda and Adam had started planning their trip after the New Year celebrations. They had indicated in the extensive correspondence they maintained with their northern based friends their intentions about the trip and had gradually firmed these up by using the recently launched telegraph system, which was an amazing aid to speeding up communications.

They had decided to go firstly to Washington DC, a five hundred mile three day train trip with an overnight stay in Raleigh, North Carolina. Both had friends in the capital, several of whom were in the House and two in the Senate. Their itinerary allowed for a five day stay before they took on the extra two hundred miles to New York. They hadn't planned completely how long they would stay, but expected it to be ten days or so before going on to Boston, where they anticipated staying another seven or ten days. 

Although the recent introduction of steel rails had speeded up travel, with some trains now reaching almost fifty miles per hour, the number of miles they could cover in a day rarely exceeded two hundred and fifty, and that was without breakdowns. The steam engines were greedy for water, wood and coal fuel and generally at least two stops a day was necessary. 

A few trains on the longer routes were experimenting with beds, but still most trains tended to stop overnight with the passengers being checked into hotels or guesthouses. 

Booking the tickets turned into a nightmare. All the railroads they had to use were fairly small, localised businesses rarely crossing state boundaries. Hence, simply to get from Savannah to Washington DC, they had to use five different railroads and that problem was magnified as they booked the rest of the trip up the east coast. 

Eventually they had it all arranged and they were both able to send out confirmation telegrams to their contacts in each of the three cities. 

The need to return by the last week in July, at the start of the picking season, necessitated their departure in the second week in June. That gave them plenty of time, with around twenty non-travelling days in which to conclude their various items of business.

In addition to the friends in common that they'd be jointly meeting, each had their own plans. Adam was excited at the prospect of more contact with Guy, and all that entailed, while Amanda had her own needs to take care of. Yes, there were several female friends she'd be meeting, but it was the old flames who were on her mind. Her plans to take at least one other lover while at the Selby Bluff plantation had not come to fruition, and her liaison with Captain Richard Jarvis seemed a long time ago now. 

Until she began discussing slavery with others, she hadn't really realised just what a terrible situation it was. Away from it in the more genteel environment of Europe, it was ea.sy to forget, or ignore, the awful situation of the slaves in her homelands. But confronted by it on a daily basis, she found herself appalled by the fact that one person could 'own' another, let alone the thirty or so she did. 

S.he hated both the concept and the reality of slavery. 

As she and Adam planned their trip and talked about the plantation, they were delighted their views on what was becoming a massive problem in their country were so similar. They were also happy to be working together on planning the trip; it was like when they were children and it cemented the closeness they'd both been feeling since their return.

Sitting in what was now a 'casual' sitting room, but which had once been Amanda's bedroom, Adam was explaining how awful it was actually purchasing slaves in the auctions. As the male 'owner' of the plantation, he and Nathan Stevens were involved in the process every month or so. 

.

Amanda was seated behind a small desk, for she had been completing some correspondence. Adam was sitting in a high backed chair just off to one side from her. He had removed his jacket, Amanda had removed the hoop from her dress to facilitate sitting at the desk. 

"It's just terrible to see the poor wretches who have just come off the boats from Africa," he told her, adding, "They are so scared, just like trapped animals." 

"What about those who have been here for some time?" she asked, glancing across at her brother. 

"Well, clearly they aren't as scared, but they do look like the wa..lking dead, as if they have no life." 

Amanda glanced at her sensitive brother and could see that he was close to tears. "Well, in truth, they don't have a life do th.ey?" she responded with a grimace. "And I can see this whole process wears you down. Look, Adam, why don't you let me do it next time?" 

"No. No Amanda, you can't," He instantly responded, a look of shock registering in his eyes. 

"What you mean I can't?" his sister immediately replied. She could do just about anything! "Of course I can." 

"Well of course you could," Adam told her, realising she felt insulted by his comment. "It's not that, Amanda, you can't because they're all male there." 

His sister's eyes shot up. "So?" she asked, in that defiant way o.f hers.

Adam got up and stood beside his sister. He tenderly placed his arm round her shoulder and bent down so he looked up into her eyes. His hand slipped from her shoulders to hold her arm near her elbow and his bent knee pressed against her silk skirt and through that against her leg; she was wearing a loose dress without hoops. She didn't move. They stared at each other. 

"Amanda, have you heard of the term 'shuck'?" 

"Yes, vaguely, but I can't recall it, what does it mean?" 

"Well I think there are several definitions." 

.

".Oh yes, isn't it a shell or a husk of something, or is it a nut?" 

"Yes that is one definition, but another is 'to shuck your trousers down" 

Amanda gave her delicious little giggle before replying. "Couldn't appeal to me then?" 

Adam was hesitant in his response. "Well yes, it could." 

Her face softened. This was becoming interesting. "How?" 

"Well if, for instance, if you were with a lover." 

She snorted. "Yes brother, and chance would be a fine thing!" 

Adam laughed. "Hmmm, yes I know what you mean. It is a rather celibate area we live in isn't it?" He decided it would be better not to mention that at least once a week he rode into Savannah to visit the numerous whore houses on River Street, near the port. Nor that, in addition, he was fucking a young slave girl almost daily. 

That was information his sister didn't need to know.

"Very," Amanda replied, recalling so vividly some of the last times they were in this room together. They were both in their late teens then, and full of sexual curiosity and adventure. 

"Okay," Adam ploughed on, looking at his sister's voluminous chest, feeling his knee pressed against her leg and gripping her arm a little tighter. Damn! He felt his erection starting. "Let's just say that you were in the process of undressing for him."

.

"Yes," Amanda said tightly, feeling uncertain and yet an undeniable tinge of excitement as to where this might lead. 

They had made a pact all those years ago, when they were bo.th leaving to go to university, that they had to stop their 'unacceptable behaviour' and that they would never discuss with anyone or between themselves what had happened several times in this very room. 

"And you might," Adam huskily continued, his mind racing at the mental pictures his words were conjuring. "Undress for him." 

Amanda's mind returned to Richard again. Undressing for him. Making love to him. A little shiver of desire shot through her at the memory. 

Adam saw the faraway look in her eye. Could she possibly be recalling the times in this very room when he had seen her n.aked? Damn, his cock was almost at full mast now! Thankfully, the folds of his shirt, breeches and woollen trousers stopped it rearing up his stomach. 

Amanda's gaze found her brother's face again. He looked as flushed as she was feeling. God, she so needed a man! Surely Adam wasn't trying to discuss their sexual experiences again? Not after their pact not to ever speak of it?

"Yes, yes I might," she said rather sharply. "So?" 

"Well, as part of that you might push your drawers down as he looked at you." Adam said. His voice was becoming even huskier as the vision of his sister doing exactly that with him sent shock waves of desire through him. He could not get t.he image of Amanda, bare breasted, pushing her knickers down in preparation of being fucked. And being fucked by him, her brother!!

"Adam," Amanda said, moving her leg so his knee no longer pressed against it. This was becoming uncomfortable and she needed to draw the conversation to a conclusion. "What is this all about?" 

"Well, dear sister, another word for pushing trousers, drawers, breeches or anything like that down, is shucking." 

"Yes, I understand that. But what is your point, Adam?" 

Her brother smiled knowingly. "My point is, Amanda, that at the slave auctions, they all have to do that." 

.

"What, push their trousers down?" she asked, her eyes widening. 

"Absolutely! And stand there stark naked!" 

The gulp she took indicated Amanda's shock, though she did her best to disguise it. "Why?" 

"Isn't it obvious? So that the potential buyers can view their genitals." 

Amanda shook her head. This was becoming even stranger. She didn't want to show her ignorance, yet had to ask the question. "And why would they want to do that?" 

..

"Well," he hesitated, "it's generally believed that the larger the man is, the better and more frequently he will reproduce and thus, yes he'll breed more powerful, stronger slaves." 

"But... but... that's rubbish Adam," Amanda spluttered, quite outraged at the idea. 

Her brother let out a long laugh. "Well, you and I know that Amanda, but remember where we are. It's not New York, Boston or Europe." 

"Jesus, I had forgotten how primitive the thinking of the deep, deep south can be," she gasped, holding a hand to her bosom. 

"And... that's why you couldn't go." 

Amanda smiled as Adam stood up, his bent knee beginning to ache. "I don't know Adam," she provocatively toyed with him. "Maybe that's why I should go? I might enjoy it." 

"Now, now," he replied, feeling his cock jump at her words. He had to get himself under control! "No naughty thoughts like that." 

Meaningfully, Amanda dropped her gaze down her brother's body to the bulge that was now only too obvious to them both. Her eyes returned to meet his.

"No Adam," she said quietly. "No naughty thoughts." 

"Sorry," he replied, turning away in embarrassment. 'Why did his sister have to look, and behave, so sexily?' he so often asked himself.

***

"You will be coming back won't you?" Emilene asked, her large eyes almost pleading as she spoke.

"Of course we will, it's our home, we own it." 

"But you want to sell it don't you?" Her voice was hoarse with fear.

"Who told you that?" 

"Everyone says so." 

The nineteen-year-old Emilene nudged Adam as they lay together in the narrow bed. The small cabin in the grounds of the overseer's house was perfect for their frequent liaisons. 

The slave girl had been born on the plantation and had never been away from it.

It was all she knew. Both of her parents were dead and she had worked in the house all of her life graduating from a kitchen skivvy to a general maid helping out the housekeeper, cook, valet or butler as required. Her duties were varied, but included light cleaning, serving table occasionally, arranging Miss Amanda's clothes - and having sex with anyone Nathan decided! 

Many plantations now had several 'Emilene's'. The plantations were usually in isolated areas, where extra-marital sex that was almost a mandatory desire for most men was difficult to arrange and even more complicated to execute.

That had led to the haphazardly organised system of sexually available slave girls; almost like a prostitute network, except they didn't get paid. 

'I own 'em so I can fuck 'em', was the principle many slave owners adopted.' 

George La Salle, Amanda's father, had established the system at Selby. Nathan Stevens was happy to continue it. After all, they served his needs, too. Girls were earmarked as possibilities at an early age and then gradually introduced to their 'new trade.' Each was allocated certain grades identifying the levels of staff and visitor who would use them. They would be fed and looked after better than the other slaves, given lighter duties and they never had to pick cotton. That is as long as they did as they were told, which essentially was to be fucked by whoever the boss and his henchmen decided.

George had been quite a visionary in establishing this way of using the younger female slaves. It prevented many of the previous high number of rapes, not that anyone really cared about them. These were only slave girls, after all! But they were unnecessary problems when an upset, father, husband or boy friend wanted revenge and frequent hangings did little for slave morale.




Savannah 02



The process also reduced disease, and, most importantly gave the white men a ready source of sex. All in all, it was easy to justify as being to everyone's advantage.

Nathan had been saving Emilene. Yes, of course he'd had sex with her, but then that was his right. But until Adam returned, only a chosen few others had tasted her favours. 

"I have a gift for you Adam," he had told the young man as the two of them were sipping wine on the porch of the overseer's house one evening. Adam had been back a few weeks and he felt confident in raising the subject. 

"What is it?" the curious part owner asked.

"Follow me," Nathan said with a grin, puffing on his clay pipe as he led Adam into his house. He took him along a short corridor to a back staircase, just inside a door from the outside, and up the narrow staircase onto a landing with three doors. He knocked on one and then unlocked it. Holding the door open he let Adam go past him into the room. 

Only the moonlight shining through the wide-open window covered by a thin muslin curtain provided any light. The large bed dominated the room and once his eyes became accustomed to the dark, Adam saw a black face with big eyes on the pillow and the outline of a body under the sheet. 

Nathan went up to the bed and took hold of the sheet. "Adam, this is Emilene. We have been saving her for your return." He whipped the sheet away from the frightened girl. "Emilene meet Mr Adam." 

As Emilene tried to cover her nakedness, she whispered. "Hello, Mr Adam." She was young, but not too young not to realise what an honour this was. No other slave girl was being offered to the young owner.

"Hello Emilene," Adam said, almost drooling at the lovely curvaceous body revealed before him. 

Adam fucked the young black woman three times that first night, and almost daily over the next three months. Only his visits to the brothels in Savannah, in search of some variety, gave the girl some relief, although truth be known Emilene enjoyed her sex with him. 

He had told her about the trip that Amanda and he were planning, and that had worried the naive young slave girl. She had got used to 'seeing' Adam most every day and, in her own way, was in love with him. She knew she would miss him, and the sex But she took some comfort from the fact that whilst he was away, Nathan would make her suck his cock most nights. It made her feel special, to be chosen by her masters like that! 

"I will miss you, Mr Adam," she told her lover, as he stroked her youthfully luscious body. 

She was quite slim, about one hundred and twenty five pounds and was around five feet six inches tall. Originating from the far West of Africa near to the equator, her skin was very black and wonderfully shiny, giving the appearance, almost, that she polished it. Although Adam had had sex with many black slave girls before leaving Selby, none had such a smoothness to their flesh as Emilene. That first time when they had fucked all night, he spent ages simply running his fingertips, lips and tongue over her 'marble like' black skin. 

In keeping with her African forbears, she had a fairly wide, but not unattractive nose and full, voluptuous lips that, when any red blooded male looked at them, put only one thought into their mind, to have them wrapped round his cock. The little minx knew that too, and was pleased that she'd perfected the art. When her masters shot their tributes between her sucking lips, it was like being given a present.

Although her breasts were small, they were beautifully rounded and pert and were capped by dark, brown, hugely prominent nipples. Her stomach was flat and she had a good thatch of black, very crinkly pubic hair, through which Adam loved to run his tongue. Even the way some of the wiry strands of hair stuck between his teeth was erotic. 

Emilene's legs were a little on the chunky side, particularly her upper thighs, but they were not so big that they rubbed together. They felt wonderful when she wrapped them around her master's back. 

Whilst most parts of her body excited most men, it was her wonderfully firm ass that was her crowning glory, and which most thrilled Adam. Rounded, full, taut, voluptuous, Rubenesque were just a few of the descriptions that came to his mind. Each beautifully symmetrical cheek flared out from just beneath her waist and formed an irresistibly attractive half-orb. Between them, a deep chasm of such suggestive eroticism was created that surely no man could resist plunging his fingers, tongue, lip or cock into it. 

Adam was absolutely no exception and he spent hours fondling and caressing those ultra smooth globes. 

Of course, it couldn't and didn't stop with merely caressing. It had to go further, there was simply no way that it couldn't. And tonight was the night! 

"Lay on your front Emi," he told her, determined to give her something special to remember him by before he left on his long trip. 

Compliantly she did as asked. She'd long ago learned never to question any of her master's commands.

Since he had started 'visiting' her, she'd discovered a whole new perspective to sex. It didn't have to be rushed, it didn't have to be all one way and it didn't have to be rough, hard and fast. With Adam it was slow, gentle, caring, considerate and totally comprehensive. Yes, with him she would cum many times, and that had never happened to her before.

Instead, Nathan had purely used her as a sex toy, as had the small number of other men he had used to 'train' her. They'd cum in her mouth, over her breasts or on the sweet cheeks of her firm ass. Religiously, though, at Nathan's insistence, when he or the other men had actually fucked her, they had worn the typical Deep South contraceptives. Most were the washable variety, but some were older fashioned ones made from animal gut. 

Adam, though, was different. He generally used the recently introduced disposable rubber variety, which Emilene had never seen before. 

"Let me put this under your stomach," he said, pulling at her hip bone. 

She willingly lifted her tummy from the bed to let him slide a thick pillow under her, thus lifting her bottom up from the bed by six inches or so and shaping her body like a crescent. Adam gasped at the sight - she looked amazingly erotic with her breasts squashed against the bed, her face on one side, her large mouth open, white teeth gleaming and her big eyes tightly closed. 

But, of course it was her body that made her position look so stunningly sexual. Her smooth back created a gentle incline up and up and up until it reached a natural apex at the top of her gorgeously rounded ass. Then down the other side of the 'black mountain' and along her smooth, slightly opened legs. 

Adam knelt beside her and kissed the very apex made by the two firm globes staring up at him. He held each cheek and gently pulled them apart, gazing into the deep, dark crevice and seeing the lighter coloured puckered skin round the entrance to her anus. Wiggling himself more between her legs as he pushed them further apart, his tongue slid down into that musky valley.

Feeling the tip of his tongue pressing right against her hole, Emilene grunted with pleasure. Until she had started having sex with Adam, she had never realised the pleasure that could be derived from her ass. Like most 'Southern gentlemen,' Nathan and the select few who had had sex with her did not consider such a thing as being proper, just as they could not bring themselves to have oral sex with her. 

Adam, brought up sexually in the more liberated north, had no such compunctions, especially about a bum as gorgeous as Emilene's. 

It took no time at all to make her cum simply by using his tongue on her ass. Once she had recovered, he adjusted her position so that she lay on her back. He was on his side, his elbow was resting on the bed beside her body his head supported by his hand. Her black skin was glistening in the afternoon sun streaming through the open window, making a strong contrast with the brilliant white, cotton sheet on the bed. 

"Thank you, Mr Adam," her tiny voice whispered. She spoke so lovingly that he responded by sucking one of her dark nipples deep into his mouth. 

Emilene was now more relaxed with Adam and had started initiating things. Nothing extreme, that wasn't her place, but little touches, putting her arm round him, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his erection or caressing his balls. 

So, as Adam sucked her breasts and nipples, sending shiveringly, strong sensations through her, she cradled her master's head and stroked his hair. They both got so much from being together, but in different ways from her responses and growing participation in what Adam recognised as their lovemaking, not just sex. 

Emilene loved the feeling of his erection growing against her leg and reached down and took the long shaft into her hand. She could still not get over the fact that she, a young, black slave girl, could make a member of the landed gentry so sexually excited that they became hard because of her. 

"Mmmm," he sighed, pulling her legs apart and looking down at the slash of pink, well more scarlet really, which almost looked violent against the blackness of her thighs, ass and wiry, pubic hairs. Although loving the taste and feel of women's vaginas, Adam was not that interested in looking at them. 

To him, they were not an object of beauty such as breasts were, they did not, for some reason, have the excitement he gained from looking at a woman's nipples, nor did they have the curiosity factor of a woman's anus. 

Returning to licking her tits and sucking her nipples, he ran his fingers along the slickness of Emilene's slightly opened lips. They were warm and slippery. They felt good. 

"Open your legs Em," he instructed, turning his hand so that his thumb found her clit, making her body jerk with surges of pleasure. 

He ran his thumb up and down her wetness a few times, enjoying her low groans and deep sighs. She was a very reactive lover and Adam simply loved both her participation and her moans in response to his sexual caresses. Several times, after pressing her clit and running his thumb and fingers along her slit, his hands slid right between her legs and into the crease of her ass.

Emmi moaned again, a deep, guttural moan, and moved position so that Adam's fingers made more frequent and stronger contact. Until his tongue had been on her tonight, she had no idea her ass could be the source of so much pleasure.

Without really thinking or planning, Adam caressed along her crevice while stroking her labial lips and caressing her clit. His fingers, wet with Emmi's juices, pressed against her anus several times. Each time, she involuntarily opened her legs a little more and pressed back against the finger. 

His thumb pressed right on her clit as his wet middle finger found that puckered skin between her ass cheeks. She seemed to be pushing herself towards it; he had found that Emilene had such a natural approach to sex.

Each time as he pressed a little harder, Emmi returned that pressure, so he pushed further still until his finger started to slide inside her ass. 

"Oh God," she groaned, not thinking of the blasphemy and gripping Adam's cock harder with one hand and his chest with the other. "Oh, master!"

Slowly, very slowly, Adam's finger entered her most private place. He was as excited as he'd been for some time. It was many years since he had fingered a woman's, other than a whore's, ass and he did not want to scare or, even worse, hurt her. 

"Is that okay, Emmi?" he whispered, kissing her damp forehead. 

"Oh yes, yes, Mister Adam, yes," she whimpered back, raising her knees and spreading her thighs even more. 

He added more pressure and his fingertip went through the sphincter muscle, almost up to the first knuckle. The momentary hurt lasted only a second or two, and was quickly replaced with the most glowingly warm feeling of deep heat right up the excited girl's back passage. 

"You still okay?" Adam checked, removing his mouth from her nipple and clamping it round her lips. 

She managed an almost gagged, "Yes, oh yes," as she felt his finger sliding further and further inside her back passage. She kissed him back as passionately as she could, loving him for the tenderness and caring he was showing her, as well as the pleasure and excitement he was providing. 

Quite why his finger inside the girl's ass should excite him so much, Adam couldn't fully understand. But the way his cock hardened further into an ache was evidence enough. He twisted his finger. Emmi moaned again. He went with the flow, allowing the sensations to overwhelm him as the beautiful, young black girl writhed against him and his 'magic' finger. 

The power, the dominance, the pleasure, the excitement, the eroticism, the adventure, the taboo and the sheer bloody excitement of finger fucking a woman to a climax was almost too much for his inflamed senses. 

He pushed harder. His finger vanished up that musky passage right to his second knuckle. Emmi bucked, just like a young colt being broken in. The combination of the pain, the pleasure, the excitement and, yes, the gratitude was something she had never before experienced. No man had ever tried to give her pleasure before they took theirs. That is, until Mr Adam. And no man had ever finger fucked her before. 

She had no idea really whether this was part of normal lovemaking or whether it was something that just white people did. Whatever it was, it was a marvellous addition to the sexual repertoire to which she had been exposed.

Adam was now very excited. Using a bum had become such a big part of his sexual experiences, whether that was with men, or women. It was really the only part of sex where there was little or no difference between the genders, he found. He was alternating between kissing and sucking Emilene's big lips and her, almost, chewy nipples as he edged his finger further up her bum. At the same time, rather dextrously he thought, he was rubbing her clit with his thumb and wiggling his forefinger inside her pussy. 

To the slave girl, the cocktail of physical sensations from her anus, her vagina, her clitoris and her nipples combined magnificently with the emotional stimulation that Adam's caring, considerate and patient approach was providing. Emi had never experienced anything remotely like it before. She was having one long, strong and intense orgasm. Her mouth was wide open gasping for breath, her eyes were tightly clamped shut and her arms were wrapped round Adam's neck and shoulders. 

She had opened her legs as wide as they would go to give him the room needed to stimulate all those special places and she had raised her knees. Her back was arched, her entire body was taught and her head was rolling from side to side. 

Seeing all those wonderful sights and feeling the strong reactions from the girl sent Adam into a, near, sexual frenzy. He kissed her harder, he sucked her breasts harder, he chewed her nipples harder, he rubbed her clit harder and he shoved his finger harder up her ass, right to the knuckle. That hurt her. 

"Oh God, Oh Mary, oh Jesus, oh, oh," she groaned, clinging harder to Adam as the searing pain tore into and up her anus. It was terrible. It was so painful, she started to cry. But it was only the lack of lubrication and as he started to pump it a little so some of her juices eased the situation. Then, the pain turned into that wonderful sensation of an aching warmth that transcends being hurt or having a sexual ache. 

As Adam was finger fucking Emilene's ass, cunt and clit he was also humping, dry shagging really, her smooth, black, damp with perspiration thigh. And as she cried and groaned, moaned and sighed and shuddered and convulsed he thrust his rigidly hard cock against her. 

"Oh yes Emmi, yes, yes, yes" he moaned as his cock exploded and his spunk shot from his cock all over the girl's upper leg and stomach; its whiteness in stark contrast to the blackness of her west African skin.



Savannah 03



Author's note.

Although this stands alone as a bawdy romp through Victorian America, it might be advisable to read the earlier parts first to gain an understanding of the story and characters. 

***

Amanda smiled sweetly. Her foresight in telling Oliver Strand the Deputy Lieutenant Governor of Georgia and by some margin the most influential man in the State that she and her brother Adam were considering selling the plantation was paying off. He had already advised her that disposing of such a prestigious and historic plantation as Selby Bluff required considerable thought and planning. 

"Particularly, my dear, in times like these," he continued, with a hint of a sneer in his gruff voice. Amanda was not excused the patronising manner he took to most people, particularly women, when discussing business matters. After all, 'What could women know of such things?' he was thinking as he took hold of Amanda's elbow. 

Amanda ignored his superior look and allowed him to steer her out onto the terrace. "Why is that? What planning?" she asked, watching a plume of blue smoke hit the night air as he lit his pipe. 

"Nothing for someone as beautiful as you to worry about," he condescendingly told her. "Merely the fact that there are some new laws going through the State Legislature concerning such sales and, of course, cotton prices are not increasing as much as they have in the past due to this ridiculous recession. It's merely a short-term aberration of course, for once we put real pressure on the Yankees they will resolve the recession, but it does complicate things, especially plantation sales." 

Although no economist Amanda knew that Strand's reasoning about coming out of the recession was as weak as his argument that the South could pressure the North to end it. From her many heated discussions when she was married and lived in London she knew that recessions although man made were not ended solely by the actions of man.

He finished with the look of someone lecturing a child, though the way he edged closer to press the sides of their bodies together suggested he thought of her as anything but a child. 

"Yes, I have been hearing rumours," she nervously replied, averting her eyes from him and looking out across the magnificent gardens to the distant river. 

"It's mainly due to the Yankees ridiculous obsession with the labour market," he drawled, using the South's euphemism for slavery as he slipped his hand around her waist. "It's to protect our way of life," 

"Oh, really," Amanda mumbled, feeling Strand's fingers tighten through her clothes just above her waist.

"Oh, yes," he smugly responded, sending another plume of smoke skywards. "Look, why don't you come and see me in the New Year and we can go through the rigmarole and such stuff?" His hand inched along her waist and up a little as he spoke. Turning to face him, there was no way for Amanda to escape the legs that pressed against her skirt, pushing the hoop backwards. "Thank you," she replied with a smile, knowing that this man's guidance would be invaluable, but wondering if she could get it without compromising herself?

"I will send you some available dates tomorrow," he told her, waving his pipe in the air. "You are staying in town tonight aren't you?" 

"Yes, I am." 

"Where, may I ask?" 

"The Eliza Thompson place, she told him, attempting to edge a step backwards." 

"Yes, I know it. Will you be staying all day tomorrow?" 

"Yes," she confirmed, hoping her flashing smile hid her distaste. "My brother Adam will be meeting me later for dinner, and then we will ride to Meldrim the following morning." 

"Well let's hope we can get our business done during the day," he told her, following her movement so that their shoulders brushed against each other. "It really isn't something that such a pretty head as yours should have to worry about," he continued reaching up and rather indiscreetly given the short time they had known each other and the public nature of where they were, brushing a lock of her chestnut coloured hair away from her forehead.

Amanda smiled sweetly, her face showing him that she was grateful for the compliment. Inside, rage seethed. How dare this pompous man talk to her in such a way, and press his body so close to hers when his wife could come onto the terrace at any moment? But her instincts told her to hide her annoyance. 

She knew how powerful he was and how useful he could be to her: pretty, delicate and female she might be, but at heart she was and always had been an opportunist. 

Besides, his earlier offer was very attractive and if he could deliver as he claimed his assistance would be invaluable: perhaps their only chance of escape from what was looking more and more like a living hell. Could he really help her organise things so that the estate could be available for sale to as wide a range of potential buyers as the State law permitted, she wondered using her business instincts? Or was that just a ploy to bed her, she wondered, letting her female intuition come into play.

"So," she asked, wanting to fully understand what he'd told her. She needed to explain this to Adam later. "Exactly who would fall into the category as a potential buyer?"

He smiled condescendingly again, knowing only too well that this 'English' beauty needed him. He could use that to his advantage. 

"That means all residents in all states beneath, but not above the Mason Dixon line or outside the Union," he explained. "And French, of course, but not British individuals and companies. It's to stop people who oppose us buying up the cotton estates and freeing the slaves that way." 

"But, pray, Mister Strand, does that not restrict the buyers who might purchase Selby Bluff" 

"Yes of course it does." 

She smiled again, wanting him to explain. "So what exactly are you proposing?" 

He took a silent puff on his pipe before answering. "Well that is what the new State laws are there for and that is where I come in, Amanda," he told her confidently, resting his palm on the back of her hand. "I may call you by your first name, I hope my dear?" 

"Yes, of course" she retorted quickly eager to glean more information. "But pray sir where do you come in? How is that?" 

"To our friends," he began, raising his eyebrows as if to suggest she should do everything in her power to remain one of his friends, "That is, those who are loyal to the Confederacy, we want to help, not hinder." 

"I am not sure, sir that I am completely following you." There was more to this than met the eye, and Amanda wanted to pin down exactly what he was proposing?

"Well, please, my dear, don't worry your pretty little head about it too much, that is what I am for and where I will help?" Strand said very patronisingly, leaning forward so his mouth was close to Amanda's ear as he squeezed her hand. 

Amanda returned his smile, but wasn't going to be distracted. If she read it right, this man was offering to ensure the sale would go through to the right person at the right price. But could she get him to confirm that?

"I thank you sir, of course, but could you explain more?" 

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, planting a smoke fuelled kiss on her skin. It took all her effort not to show her repulsion. His next words proved the wisdom of her keeping her feelings to herself.

"There are ways and means, Amanda," he replied with a knowing look. "Ways and means around everything, if you know the right people." 

She had what she wanted! "And you, I assume Mister Strand are one of those?" she smiled graciously, happy to receive confirmation that this was a man she needed. 

"Oh, yes, Missus Williams, I am very much one of the right people! And please use Oliver."

***

The trip to Washington DC went quickly, despite the rather tiresome delays due to the frequent changes of railroad made necessary by the state restricted nature of the companies. Just two days after leaving Savannah, they were checked in to the brand new and rather ostentatious Willard hotel on K Street, not far from the White House. 

Their meticulously drawn up schedule allowed Amanda and Adam three days in the capital. They needed that time, with their individual contacts and old friends, many of who were involved with the government. The heavy schedule of lunches and dinners, balls, soirees and parties would be tiring, but worthwhile.

The more views they solicited in Washington, the more alarmed they became. They hadn't anticipated the sheer strength of opinion against slavery in general and its extension in particular. Then there was the value of their plantation. It looked to be significantly lower than they had been led to believe down south. 

There was one reason for that, the very real, some said inevitable, prospect of war! The consensus of opinion was that if the country lawyer from Illinois won the Republican nomination next year, then all hell, including war, would break out. Lincoln had very publicly stated and, to a large extent was basing his campaign upon stopping the expansion of slavery particularly with new states joining the Union. This was where the South and he and by association the North were on a collision course and it was that, many believed which would propel the country into a civil war

The thought struck dread into both Amanda and Adam's hearts.

Right now, in Oliver Strand's huge office, Amanda could feel her heart racing. This had been the one engagement that she'd been dreading, and her instincts had not been wrong. It had not taken long to travel to his house, just outside the city on a hill overlooking the Potomac. 

She had purposefully dressed demurely in a high fronted, dark blue dress with white piping. The silk bodice had a row of small, white bone buttons running between her breasts from her waist to just under her chin. The tightness of the bodice and the row of buttons accentuated both the fullness of her breasts and the voluptuousness of her figure. As Strand saw her he gulped and his pulse began to race although Amanda didn't witness either for she was struggling with her own nerves.

Being slightly drunk from an earlier lunch, the man was in a very amorous mood. His reassurances that he could help with the sale of the plantation came second to the compliments he showered on Amanda. Keeping him sweet, while avoiding his attempts to paw her, was a delicate operation. 

"Obviously, Miss Amanda," he leered. "Your goodwill will be necessary to get the highest price." 

She ignored the implication. "And where sir, do you believe we will get the highest price from?" 

"Buyers in the north and from overseas" he said without hesitation, waving his hand in the air. 

"What?" This was contrary to his explanation at the ball. "I thought you said State law prevented those people from buying plantations." 

"And so it does," Strand said with a smirk. He stood up and walked behind Amanda.

She shuffled uncomfortably on the low, wide backed armless chair made specifically for women wearing full hoops in front of his huge desk. 

"So how do we sell to those buyers?" 

"By using Federal law, which overrides Georgian law" he panted, no more than a step away. 

"And that I assume, Mister Strand is difficult to organise?" she nervously asked, wondering what to expect from the out of sight man. Should she turn in the chair to face him? No, that would only indicate her nervousness.

Looking down on the woman who he had now decided that without doubt he would bed, whatever it took, he felt himself hardening. He fiddled with himself releasing his manhood from the restrictions of his long johns and allowing its respectable length and impressive girth to rear up his pudgy stomach inside the grey pin-striped trousers.

"Yes Miss Amanda" he murmured quietly, as he rested his hands on her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh through the high neckline. "It's extremely difficult. It requires extensive and influential contact and it needs goodwill from, and a close working relationship between all parties." 

"I see," Amanda muttered, knowing how much she needed his help, but unwilling to compromise herself, well not too much, just yet. 

She had been in similar situations in England and knew full well the meaning of his words. She was effectively being asked to trade sex for a favour. Surprisingly, the concept did not offend her the way she thought it might. After all, if she could use her body to get her own way, that gave her the power? And she knew that in both London and Washington that was the way of the world, it was how to get the power you didn't have and how to get something you wanted. Smiling she thought 'It's not the oil that makes the wheels of industry turn its women's sexual excretions that does that!' No, the principle of using sex to get what she wanted didn't offend her unduly, it was the thought of with whom she would have to use sex that was the issue.

"And if this 'close working relationship' is forthcoming?" she coyly asked, as his fingers dug more deeply into her shoulders. 

"Then I am sure something can be arranged," he told her triumphantly, confident he had won the day. "And........" he went on pausing dramatically as he rubbed her collar bones. "It should enhance the purchase price of Selby by at least thirty per cent."  

With those final words, his hands slid down her arms in a blatant precursor to attempting to cup her breasts. 'His way of sealing the deal perhaps?' Amanda thought ruefully. But she wasn't willing to allow him that. Not yet, anyway.

"Perhaps, Oliver," she said turning her head and smiling at him over her shoulder as she grabbed his wrists. "We can confirm the arrangement the next time we meet?"

"Indeed," he answered as he reluctantly withdrew his hands. The feisty woman was playing hard to get. He liked that. "For the moment yes madam, for your carriage awaits. But I hope it will not be too long before our terms are.................." he paused before proceeding. "Er...... cemented, shall we say? Or......" adding with a low chuckle after yet another pause "Maybe consummated might be a more apt description. I am a patient man, Amanda, but even patience has its limits."

Despite the sensitivity of the situation and Strand's really quite outrageous behaviour, Amanda could not suppress a small smile, which fortunately she was able to hide with her fan. The manner in which men's behaviour altered and how their personality changed so much during a seduction, never ceased to amaze and amuse her: such strange creatures really.

"I understand," she told him, standing up and putting her hand out for him to kiss. 

He took her hand. Bending at the waist, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it, for rather longer than was necessary. "Remember, the goodwill of the seller is essential and significantly helps the sale of a plantation these days," he emphasised, his eyes holding hers. 

"I will bear that in mind," Amanda said, trying to pull her hand from his grip. 

But the powerful man held it tight as he straightened up so that their faces were on a level, a foot or so apart her hand in his almost touching his chest in the paisley patterned silk waistcoat. He was making his point so that there could be no misunderstanding. When he stared deep into her eyes, Amanda held his gaze, confidently, defiantly perhaps? He liked that!

Feisty women were there to be tamed, and he'd enjoy taming this beauty. Women always came round to his way of thinking in the end, and this one would be no exception! 

He moved a little closer to her and, very pointedly, ran his gaze down from her eyes to her breasts and back again. 

"I suggest we discuss the matter further on your way back from the north?" he told her. It was more a command than a question.

Still defiantly holding his gaze, while he continued to tightly grip her hand, Amanda replied. "I'm not sure. I hadn't planned to return through Washington." 

He was in no mood to be trifled with. "For the sale of the plantation, I think it would be highly beneficial for you to reconsider," he told her. "There are some people I want you to meet, people who could well be interested in Selby or at least easing its sale. And of course, all the new laws will be in place in Georgia by then............"

His voice trailed off, as if defying her to refuse the invitation. Amanda had more sense. This was her best opportunity to dispose of the estate, and she could not allow it to pass her by. Whatever that meant for her and Oliver Strand, then so be it. 

"Then, of course, Mr Strand. I will meet with you and them on my return journey. It will probably be around July fifteen. Will that suit?" 

"That will be perfect Miss Amanda," he answered, curling his lips in a triumphant smile as he finally released her hand. "I look forward to er...................... getting to know you better." 

His words ran through Amanda, sending a chill up her spine and, unexpectedly, a tingle in her loins. Then he was closing the gap between them and taking her into his arms. She accepted his kiss on her cheek, but turned her face when he attempted to kiss her lips. 

He smiled, his eyes telling her that if she was to get what she wanted, it was only a matter of time. Amanda felt herself blush as she mumbled, "Until July, then, Mr Strand." 

"Please, call me Oliver," he murmured, his eyes flicking across her body one final time. "And yes, until mid-July, goodnight Amanda..." 

As she wafted through the doorway, which was hardly wide enough for her crinoline skirt, she replied, pointedly. "Goodnight again Mister Strand."

***

New York was fabulous. Everything about it was marvellous. The new buildings going up everywhere, the frantic atmosphere, the crowds, the shops, the theatre, the restaurants and even the weather. But what made it extra special for the brother and sister though, was the sex. They both had old flames there, which they rekindled. 

The first few days were taken up with meetings with bankers, investment houses, shipping agents, cotton buyers and various merchants. They had endless meetings, both at the other parties' offices and at their hotel, working lunches and dinners. 

Amanda had to deal with not only plantation business, but also her own considerable investments. The 'winnings' that Samuel had given her in the early days of their marriage had grown considerably. The estate in Datchet, near to Queen Victoria's favourite home, Windsor Castle, had finally been sold and the Piccadilly town house had been rented out on very good terms. Her railway investments and her Californian land purchases were starting to show some growth and a recent valuation of the jewellery she had bought, most of which was in safe-keeping in London, had shown an almost doubling in value. 

Although she was, she now realised, a very wealthy woman she had been forced to use a goodly part of her wealth as collateral for the huge and increasing loan that was necessary to keep the plantation functioning effectively; another reason for the sale. In addition the recession that was spreading through the country and Europe was reducing the value of many of her assets meaning that each month a greater proportion of them had to be pledged to maintain the level of guarantee required by the greedy banks.

Unfortunately, Adam was far from wealthy and could be of no assistance in guaranteeing the bank loans. His art gallery in New York was barely managing to survive, while most of his other investments were also losing money. That meant that, in addition to dealing with her own affairs and those of Selby Bluff, Amanda had to attend to Adam's as well.

Their third day in New York had ended over dinner, where some people in the art world, well aware of the relative failure of Adam's gallery had offered to 'take it off his hands' for a trifling amount. Now, back at their hotel, in Amanda's suite, they were sipping brandies and discussing events. 




Savannah 03



"I'm just hopeless with money and business," Adam confided, taking a long drink and shaking his head.

Amanda smiled in sympathy. "Well you know what they say, brother? Unlucky with money..................." she said pausing meaningfully. 

He gave a rueful smile, turning towards her as they stood looking out the window over the Hudson River. "I'm not lucky in love, though either, am I?" 

"Nor am I," Amanda admitted. "Two misfits aren't we really?" 

Their eyes met, speaking volumes as their thoughts returned to their late teens; it was unavoidable. 

"Yes, I suppose we are," Adam slowly said. "You don't have anyone, do you Amanda?" 

"No, and you Adam?" 

"I just don't know." 

Amanda gave a slight start. It wasn't the answer she had expected. "What do you mean?" she asked, with a frown. "You have someone and you aren't sure?" 

For a moment, her brother's gaze turned blank. "In a way, yes." 

"Who, if I may be so bold?" 

"It's not quite like that," he uncertainly told her. 

Amanda's frown deepened. Her brother was talking in riddles. "I don't understand you, Adam." 

"That's not surprising," he sighed, turning to look out across the Hudson again. "At times, I don't understand myself." 

Amanda's frown turned into a soft smile. "Oh Adam again we are so similar, you and I. There are times I don't understand myself that way." 

"It's not that, Amanda," Adam blurted out, turning to look at her again, his eyes full of anguish. "At times, I... I think I am homosexual." 

"Oh I see," she replied, not that surprised. She'd had her suspicions about Adam and other men. 

"And at other times?" 

"At other times, dear sister," he responded, feeling that a weight had been lifted with his confession. "At other times, I am comfortable with women." 

"Do you have a lover at present?" she asked, adding after a moment's deliberation, "Other than Emilene of course?" 

"You know about her?" 

Amanda laughed at the shock on his face. She ran a hand through her hair. "Of course I do. Nathan told me what he had planned." 

"Hmmm, I see," Adam replied rather pensively. If his sister was aware of Emilene, how much else did she know? "Actually no, Amanda, I don't have another lover." 

She nodded, taking a deep sip from her brandy glass. "From what I hear little brother, you probably wouldn't have the time, let alone the energy for any more would you?" 

Adam laughed, feeling his cock rise just at the thought of him and the black slave girl together "Well, she does occupy my time quite a bit." 

"She's a good lover?" 

He nodded. "Actually, Amanda, she is becoming excellent in bed. Clearly she just needed the right man." 

Amanda ignored the boastful comment. "But I thought that Nathan had trained her? She wasn't what you expected at first, then?" 

"No, Nathan said he had sort of trained her, and he had made her go with some of the other plantation barons, too. But they are all take, no give." 

"And you give as well as take, do you?" Amanda smiled, feeling a tinge of excitement to be chatting so intimately with her brother. "You're a considerate lover?"

"Yes," he answered quickly, looking his sister directly in the eye. "I treat her as an equal, not a slave, and it pays." 

She nodded, and for a moment neither spoke, each thinking their own thoughts. It was Amanda who broke the brief silence. "Well, I have to say Adam, she has a great figure." 

"She certainly has," he responded proudly, but then found his eyes running across his sister's body. "But then, so have you Mands," he added boldly. 

"Thanks," she said, feeling herself blush at the compliment. "Not that it's made any difference since coming home." 

"No secret lover, then?" 

"Nope, none," she told him, turning away from the window and gazing vacantly across the room. 

Adam saw the sadness in her eyes. "Not Mr Strand, then?" he asked.

"No" she answered, her voice rising. For a moment, her hand reached across her chest while she composed herself. Why had she spoken so sharply, she wondered? "No, most certainly not Mr Strand." 

"Well, I am sure we could fix something if you want," Adam said, reaching to pull his sister's arm so that he could look right into his her eyes. 

For a moment, her eyes widened in shock. Surely, he couldn't mean? "Adam! I thought we agreed to forget all that." 

He looked surprised. "We did, Amanda. I... I didn't mean me." 

"No?" Did she feel relief or disappointment? She found herself wondering.

"Well no I didn't," he murmured, taking advantage of the moment. "But...?" 

Amanda stared thoughtfully into his eyes as her brother edged closer to her. His gaze was steady, then slowly and provocatively ran down to her spectacular cleavage, fashionably half uncovered in her evening gown. 

"But what Adam?" Amanda asked breathlessly, her mouth going dry as her brother's dark eyes returned to bore into hers. Her whole body was tingling.

"I don't know," he said, jerking his gaze away and draining the rest of his brandy. 

It looked as if it was taking all his self-will not to gather her up in his arms. This was wrong, so wrong, and yet it sent a thrill down between her moist thighs. 

"Everything is so complicated," he continued, shaking his head as if he was trying to clear the thoughts inside. "What I meant is that I have many friends in New York." 

Amanda curled her lip and flounced past him to the middle of the room. "I see," she said, coldly. "And what you're telling me is that as a favour, one of them would give me a good seeing to as I believe you men call it?" 

"Yes, well... no, not like that," he mumbled, unsure of exactly what he was trying to say. "I didn't mean it like that, Mandy." 

"Really," she snapped, her eyes blazing as she glanced back at her brother. "Well understand this! Whether you meant that either, you Adam or, one of your friends would fuck me, forget it. I can arrange my own sex life, thanks."

***

That phrase was in Amanda's mind, as she got ready for bed that night. "I can arrange my own sex life, thanks."

Undressing without help was a trial and she was regretting giving the maid the rest of the night off. Millie had pulled the laces of the corset tight when she'd dressed. Undoing them was a fiddly job, as was removing the hoop cage and the voluminous skirt. Preparing herself for bed was a rather lengthy process, giving her too much time to think about her non-existent sex life 

With that on her mind, it was not surprising that as she undressed and bathed, she became aroused; that happened more frequently recently. Drying herself before the bedroom mirror, her arousal increased! Damn! She cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples. She so needed a man, and felt pleased that her long wait since the dalliance with Captain Jarvis on the trip from Englanmd would end tomorrow when she was meeting Fairfax Lennon, her long term, occasional lover. As she squeezed her sensitive breasts she smiled ruefully as she thought 'What a treat he is in for tomorrow!'

Thoughts of him reverberated around her mind as she lay on the bed. Turning onto her front, her hands locked between her legs, the fingers on one pressing her clit, those on the other searching and probing inside her pussy. 

As she pleasured herself, images of Fairfax left her and she thought of her brother and his friends. Her arousal increased. Thoughts of her brother's friends floated away into the thin air, replaced by images of her brother only. She began to cum, and when the sensations of her climax crashed over her, she 'saw' her brother's naked body. He was lying between her widely spreaded thighs fucking her. 

Amanda had been on Adam's mind as he caught a taxi carriage up to Third Avenue. She was there as he selected the young man from the line up in the male bordello and stayed there as they went upstairs to one of the de-luxe rooms. 

The memory of her body was with him when, for the second time in just over a week, his fully hardened cock sank between a pair of perfectly rounded cheeks. It was ringing in his ears as he pushed himself past the resistance of a sphincter muscle and into the tight confines of an asshole. But in his mind it wasn't the young male whore, it wasn't the numerous other male and female whores whose back passages he'd invaded and it wasn't even Emilene's deliciously rounded posterior that he was fucking. No in Adam's mind, it was his sister Amanda's ass in which his cock was deeply buried. 

***

At forty-one, Fairfax Lennon was the youngest full-time, professional serving generals in the army. The head of Military Intelligence wasn't a fighting general, he was a thinking one. He was also single, exceedingly rich, one of the most eligible bachelors in the north, and had met Amanda when she had visited Adam at Harvard where Fairfax was doing some postgraduate studies on a secondment from West Point.

Since then, he had been fucking her on and off for nearly twenty years. 

He had fucked her at West Point before she met Samuel, fucked her when she was being courted by him, and fucked her on the day before she'd married when Amanda had a panic attack about becoming Missus Williams and all that entailed. It hadn't stopped there. He had fucked her when she lived in New York for a time, had fucked her when she was married and he'd fucked her again when he had visited London. 

And now, on her fourth day in the city, he was about to fuck her again. Following his return from a trip to Chicago, they had enjoyed dinner together at his central Manhattan apartment. Catching up on all the gossip about their joint friends and acquaintances had been a joy, and then she had told him about the plantation and how both she and Adam hated living there and running it. 

"We want to sell it, but these new laws make it very hard." 

"The Georgian ones?" 

"Yes, those promoted by Oliver Strand." 

Fairfax nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that man is a bastard and a racist, but a clever one at that. Do you know him?" 

"Yes, we have met," she confessed. 

"Many times?" 

"Several yes, in fact I dined with him just the other day in Washington." 

"And?" he asked suggestively, reaching across the table and taking her hand. 

Amanda shivered. Should she tell Fairfax that Strand was willing to help her with the sale, providing she had sex with him? "And what?" she settled for saying.

"And what happened? He tried it on of course, I assume?" 

"Yes." 

"So," Fairfax said, smiling and pausing, "We're back to the 'and what happened' aren't we?" 

Amanda laughed and fluttered her eyelashes. 

"Well, have you?" he asked, standing up and moving round the table behind her. He rested his hands on the shoulders left bare by her smoky pink, silk 'London' dress. 

She sighed softly in anticipation of what was to come. "That's for me to know and for you to find out isn't, mon Generale?" 

"Exactly ma cherie," he retorted, sliding his hands down her upper chest, and onto and over the delightful swells of flesh bursting out from the low neckline of her dress. Amanda gasped as he wiggled his hands inside the tight bodice, cupping both of her breasts and squeezing them with just the right amount of pressure. 

The suddenness and the surge of sensations made Amanda gasp again and lean her head back against his chest. "Oooooo," she sighed, as fingers tweaked her nipples. Half turning, she rubbed her head along the length of his erection rearing up his stomach.

It took no time to reach his bedroom, but as usual undressing her was time-consuming and difficult. After what seemed an age they had got her bodice, which fashionably was detached from the skirt, unbuttoned and off, had unravelled the voluminous skirt, taken the hoops away, unlaced and removed the grey corset, slid the one, summer petticoat off, pulled her chemise over her head and her drawers down her legs so that Amanda stood before her lover in her black, mid-thigh length stockings held up by pink gartera and grey kid, lace up, ankle boots. Sitting on the edge of the big, feather bed Amanda put her foot on Fairfax's knee so he could unlace her bootees. At last, though, they were done and Amanda lay back on the imposing four poster bed clad in just her stockings. "You look fucking wonderful" Fairfax said as with even more self-confidence than her last lover, the captain, he undressed.

The feeling as his cock surged into her took her breath away. It was similar to, but even more intense than with Richard on the Western Spirit. Smiling as almost immediately she started to cum Amanda thought. 'Abstinence not only makes the heart grow fonder, but also makes you cum quicker. 

Amanda considered Fairfax to be a great lover. Apart from Samuel, in the early days of their marriage when she not only respected and admired him, but also felt she really loved him, she had always considered her sex with Fairfax as being the best she ever had. Returning to having it with him now after such a long break simply confirmed that impression. 

He made her cum quickly with his fingers on her pussy and his mouth on her tits and then they fucked for a long time, each position being different to the last. She had a lot of built up sexual tension inside her, waiting to be unlocked, and Fairfax helped her release all of it.

Afterwards, as she lay in his strong arms, they talked about the plantation, the new laws, and the situation in the north regarding slavery, cotton prices and the political situation. 

Each part of their conversation was interspersed with a kiss, stroke or caress, but their continued fondling couldn't hide the grim news. The plantation was as good as unsaleable, almost at any price. There was no way round the new laws that he knew of, although he offered to make some checks, 

"That is, of course, unless you sell your soul to the devil?" he added with a laugh as he pinched her nipple.

Amanda sighed at the wonderful way he manipulated her body. But also, at his mention of the devil. She knew the conversation would return to this subject. "Strand?" she asked.

"Yes, who else?" he asked, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"I don't think it's my soul he wants to buy," she confided. 

"No, more likely this," Fairfax said, sliding his hand down her stomach and cupping her pussy. Within seconds, he was inside her again. This time their lovemaking was less frantic, but just as enjoyable.

***

Fairfax and Amanda saw each other as often as their busy schedules permitted over the next week. In fact, other than when his military business demanded, they were inseparable. 

Her liaison wasn't lost on Adam. He had, of course, met Fairfax before and was acutely aware that he and his sister had been very active lovers. He was equally conscious that she was seeing him now and no doubt fucking him again. He often felt jealousy when Amanda was with another man and this time was no different. 

"Do you love him?" he asked that evening as he and Amanda shared a small carafe of wine in her boudoir. 

Before Adam had joined her, Amanda had removed her dress and hoop cage, Millie had helped her with her corset and she had removed her two petticoats, her chemise and her camisole. For some reason, she had kept her stockings and bloomers on. 

She had slipped into the lacy, ankle-length, cotton night dress that she had brought from England. It was not quite as high at the neck as most American peignoirs, which she felt seemed to have been designed to deter, not encourage lovemaking. She had put her dressing robe, which was also white cotton, on over that. 

"Who?" she playfully asked. It was fun to be with Fairfax again and to observe Adam's inevitable reaction.

"You know who" he responded coldly, standing up and pacing across to the window, and then back again.

Amanda sighed. Was it always going to be like this between them she wondered; Adam being jealous of her and other men? And yes, a tinge of jealousy on her part when her brother was in a relationship with someone else. 

"In a way, yes, I suppose I do," she answered, immediately dropping her little game. "I think I probably always have I suppose." 

"I see," Adam replied, a little too petulantly Amanda thought. 

"And what's that mean?" she asked, swinging around on her stool beside the dressing table to look at him over her shoulder.

"Oh you know Mands," he said. His voice was sad, resigned even. Amanda stopped arranging her hair and glanced at his reflection in the dressing table mirror. Their eyes met and fixed on one another as Adam took a step closer. Only the sound of their breathing filled the silence. When he put his hand on her shoulder, she comfortingly reached up and placed hers on his. She didn't want her brother to be sad.

Squeezing her brother's hand, she said. "Yes Adam, I know, but we have to put that behind us now." 

"Why, we didn't in London?" He asked edging his fingers forward and down her chest a little. Half of his hand was on the material of her dressing robe, the other half on her bare skin, alongside the deep, broderie anglais collar of her night dress. 

"That was different," she breathed as her heart started to pound. 

When she made no effort to stop him, his fingers inched further downwards easing the lapels of the dressing gown apart. "It was wonderful between us, wasn't it?" his hoarse voice whispered.

"Oh Adam," she groaned, as his fingertips reached the neckline of her nightdress that was mid-way between her shoulders and her bosom. When he pressed the pliant, wonderful-to-feel, rather wobbly flesh, a shock of sensations shot through her. 

"You did enjoy it, didn't you?" he pressed. "You wanted me then!" 

His fingers slipped downwards under the material of her nightdress as he pressed his erection against her back. Amanda felt his growing bulge straightening and hardening just as his fingertips found her hardened nipple. She leaned back, lost in the sensations her brother was creating in her body. How long had it been?

"Oh Adam," she groaned. "No, no. Please stop," she managed to say, albeit with some reluctance.

He recognised the signs. To his experienced eye they were so very obvious. Without a doubt, he recognised supplication, surrender and submission by his sister. But even in his highly aroused and very emotional state he knew that now was not the time to go further

With that, Adam kissed his sister on her head and pulled his hands away. Within seconds, he left the room, leaving both of them feeling, relieved, disappointed, still excited and wondering just what might have happened if he had stayed.

***

"So, in short, you are asking me to sleep with him?" Amanda asked, as she lay naked in Fairfax's arms in her hotel room. A week after their first reunion, their lovemaking remained just as wonderful and energetic as that first time. 

"Er no, not necessarily," he muttered. 

She lifted her head up from his sweat covered chest to look into his eyes. "What then?" 

"Look Amanda" he said, choosing his words carefully. "It's essential we get to know as much about these Fire-Eaters, as they call themselves, as possible, and we do not have anyone as close to any of the leading lights as you are to Strand."

She rested her head back against his chest again, stroking her fingers along his shoulder. "I'm not that close." 

"But you could be, couldn't you? Admit that at least." 

"Yes I imagine I could," she agreed. "But I need to know more. Who the hell are the Fire-Eaters, is that what you called them?" 

His voice rose in line with his feelings. "They are a well-organised bunch of total racist bastards whose one objective is to preserve slavery and all that goes with it." 

"Oh... yes," she hesitantly said. "I think I read something about them in the New York Times or Boston Globe, maybe." 

"Yes, probably about the 'Bloody Kansas debacle' or maybe the fight between Charles Sumner and Preston Brooks last year in the Senate" 




Savannah 03



"Yes, it was about Preston, beating Sumner with his cane. He just died, Preston that is not Sumner," she said, leaning back so that she could run her fingers across his chest and downwards towards his flat stomach and the delicious things beneath that. 

"Yes, that's right and poor old Charlie is still suffering, he was hurt very badly mentally" Fairfax told her, his body jerking involuntarily as he felt her cool fingers touch his soft, but receptive penis. 

"Loo," Fairfax said, pushing the locks of blonde hair that continually flopped down over his forehead away. It was a gesture that Amanda, and a host of other women over the years, had found so attractive. "We are heading for a war, unless we can do something to stop it," he went on sitting up suddenly. 

"So people keep saying, but I can't believe it," Amanda replied, swinging around from her position on the bed so that she could face him. Her breasts wobbled enticingly. 

"Obviously it is not inevitable, but at the moment the north and the south are on a collision course over the slavery issue, amongst a host of other things." 

"Yes, but a war, a civil war, American fighting American?" Amanda frowned. It just didn't make sense to her. "It's avoidable, but the slave thing has to change," Fairfax responded, stroking her dark chestnut hair that tumbled down over the pale skin of her shoulders and breasts. "It is against basic human dignity and rights, one man should not be able own another." 

"True, I agree with that, but surely many slaves are better off 'owned' than free, I'd imagine?" 

"That's as may be, Amanda, but the other issue is trade. Frankly, most of Europe, Great Britain, France and Germany in particular, are so against it they are making noises about not buying our goods and restricting our access to their capital unless we sort ourselves out very soon. Britain in particular is totally opposed to the protectionism that the south want. They endorse a free trade environment, and we are not complying, largely because of slavery." 

"I see," she nodded thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of it like that." 

"No, what most people don't realise is we have to continue expanding our industrial base, something the South is not interested in. It's critical for the North, but we need the capital and other financial services, like insurance, that only London can provide. If we don't agree about stopping the expansion of slavery, London simply won't provide funding. It really is as simple as that." 

Amanda rested her head on Fairfax's knee and stroked his calf and foot. He had lovely, smooth skin covered on tiny, blonde hairs. "So what's going to happen?" she asked.

"Well, I can tell you for as certain as anything, Lincoln will be the next president, and he will not back down on it." 

"He is not insisting on abolishing slaves is he?" 

"No, but he's adamant there will be no more expansion. The new states must not embrace slavery and if they do there will be war." 

She sighed. "But eventually he'll ban it won't he?" 

"Yes, of course, Amanda. It has to be banned. Eventually the slaves have to be freed."

"Why are you so certain that Lincoln will be president, the newspapers do not seem to see it like that."

"Well that's as maybe, but they don't know what I do."

"And that is?"

"Don't you ever repeat this Amanda, but we have ways of ensuring the correct result comes about from an election. I cannot tell you more than that, but will stress that we will do whatever it takes to stop the Southerner Breckinridge and that lunatic Douglas. Neither can be permitted to be President."

Amanda nodded again, but her thoughts were wandering between their discussion, and the rapidly hardening cock in her hand. "So, what exactly is it you would like me to do?" she asked coquettishly, bending her head to lick around the rounded tip of his erection. "Other than suck this, of course." 

Fairfax let out a low groan as he reached down and cupped her breast. Their conversation was at an end.



Savannah 04



Both Amanda and Adam had lost their virginities soon after their eighteenth birthdays.  Coincidences?  No, not really!  It was quite common in the South for sons to be taken to a bordello or brothel by an older brother or an uncle soon after they were eighteen.

With girls it was different.  

Many were not 'deflowered' until their wedding nights, something that Amanda's mother, Florence, thought was so wrong.  She had seen so many marriages ruined because the sex was wrong, either the husband being too demanding or, the bride having little interest, or skill come to that. 

She had carefully planned the trip to take her daughter to Boston for her university interviews, making sure that they were invited to numerous parties and balls so that Amanda would have ample opportunities to meet men. Not just young men her age either, but older, more experienced, single men.  Unlike most mothers, Florence was not concerned as to their eligibility as an appropriate husband, her interest was purely whether they would be good in bed.  

It worked.

Amanda lost her virginity on the second trip and discovered in the process that she possessed a healthy sexual appetite, something she was never able to fulfil satisfactorily until her marriage.

Unlike many girls in their late teens Amanda's loss of virginity was tender, caring unrushed and overall quite beautiful.  She had been introduced to the law student by a mutual friend.  They seemed to hit it off immediately and for the few remaining days of her visit to Boston they were almost inseparable.  Although etiquette generally called for chaperones to be in attendance when a couple 'courted' this was largely ignored by the students, post graduates and would be entrants to the universities and schools in and around Boston.  Indeed so relaxed was the academic community that few of the small, but growing number of females wore hoops around the schools and colleges, with many also dispensing with corsets as well.
On their first 'date' they did nothing but talk and get to know each other.  On their second, the next day they did more of the same but Irving held her hand as they stepped over several large puddles in a slightly flooded street.  On their third, that evening, he kissed her goodnight.  It was only a gentle peck on her cheek accompanied by his hand resting on her hip but the sensations they sent through her were very intense indeed. 

Amanda was first kissed by a boy at her eighteenth birthday celebration at the plantation. Following that, she had been kissed by several other boys and one or two had touched her body.  The boy who kissed her at her birthday party was the first and until she was with Irving Sanders in Boston, the only one who had touched her breasts.  That happened some months into her nineteenth year when she and he walked into a small wood near his father's ranch where Amanda, Adam and few more friends were spending a few days.  

Although hoops and crinoline skirts were 'de rigeur' in formal company most 'country' girls in the south did not wear them during the day around the house or when walking on their parent's plantations or farms; amongst other reasons it was simply too hot . Hence, as Amanda and Henry Smithers strolled down a narrow, high hedge-lined lane hand in hand towards the woods she was wearing a simple cotton, cornflower blue dress. She was not wearing a corset and her only garments under the dress were her chemise, drawers and white stockings.  Although her breasts hadn't yet fully developed they still wobbled and jiggled very sexily as she moved Henry thought. 

Walking behind her as they passed through a narrow gap in the hedgerow he steered her towards the woods with his eyes glued on the undulating orbs of Amanda's ass inside the thin, clinging dress. Seeing moving female flesh even under clothing was such a rare sight that Henry's erection became complete immediately he was behind Amanda. The memory of the lip to lip kiss they had exchanged at her party just four months ago was at the forefront of his mind as he once more walked beside her holding her small, soft, cool hand.  They stopped under a large oak tree and he turned towards her.  Amanda turned as well.  She knew what was coming, or thought she did, and her heart started to pound.  She was right for quickly he took her in his arms and once more kissed her.  Quite tentative at first the kiss quickly grew in intensity.  Henry moved Amanda backwards until she was against the large, round trunk of the old tree and the overhanging branches provided a cover from anyone walking past.  Their mouths met again and this time when his tongue pressed against her lips she opened her mouth.  To her inexperienced, virginal mind his tongue probing into her mouth was like she imagined a penis invading her vagina.  She sighed and rolled her head from side to side as his tongue continued its exploration and hers started to examine the inside of his mouth. 
He had one arm circling her waist and the other round her shoulders.  It was the hand on the former that Amanda felt moving up the side of her body.  It went past her unfettered breast just, almost imperceptibly brushing the very edge of it before coming to rest nearly in her armpit with the thumb on her upper chest.  That slight graze, though, to an uninitiated girl was shatteringly arousing.  Amanda gasped at the surge of pleasure and they broke the kiss, but only momentarily and then her lips were once more writhing against his.  Henry, emboldened by Amanda's reaction to the kiss and encouraged by her response to his 'accidental' touch of her breast slowly retraced the journey of his hand.  This time it moved downwards; this time his thumb was on her chest; this time the touch wasn't imperceptible or accidental and this time his thumb pressed fully on the soft, yielding upward slope of her left breast.  Amanda's entire body jerked, but to Henry's elation it didn't pull away. Now he was confident and without further ado he brought his complete hand round from the side of Amanda's body and cupped her breast squeezing it gently.  She whimpered with the explosion of pleasure, excitement and desire that surged through her entire body.  It became more extreme as he manipulated the mound of such delightful flesh by kneading, pressing and squeezing it.
Henry was so excited.  Feeling the delights of Amanda's breast through the thin cotton was as arousing a sensation as he had so far experienced.  Of course he had caressed naked breasts, naturally he had pinched and pulled nipples and for sure he had kissed, sucked, licked and chewed the succulent flesh of women's bosoms, but they had been on hookers.  He was yet to see a 'real' woman naked let alone touch and caress one.  Would his first he was wondering be the beautiful Miss La Salle?
Amanda was hugely aroused, far more so than when she masturbated.  She was wondering whether she would be able to resist ending up in a similar condition with Henry as she did with herself when she made herself cum. Although she frequently pleasured herself by squeezing and stroking her breasts and pinching her nipples the feelings were nowhere near as strong or intense as those she was gaining from Henry's hands, for now he was attending to both of her breasts. 
Growing in confidence as much as in ambition, Henry found the buttons on the front of Amanda's shift.  They came open so easily and quickly his hand was inside.  He revelled in the feeling of her bare flesh, he gloried in the sensation of touching and pulling her marvellously hardened nipple and he gasped with desire as his palm consumed the wonderful orb.
Amanda could hardly believe that such sensations, such excitement and such sheer pleasure could be gained simply by a hand touching her body.  She was ecstatic and aroused and was losing control of both her body and her mind.  Her breasts were filled with a searing heat, her nipples felt as though they would explode and she knew that her pantalets would be dampened by her womanly excretions.
Henry was wondering whether this was it?  Whether at long, long last at the age of twenty three he was going to have sex with a woman who was not a whore or a slave.  His mind could hardly take in the fact that it might well be with the delicious Miss Amanda La Salle, the girl and woman who so many boys and many older men had lusted after for years.
"Oh Amanda" he groaned.  "Your breasts are so beautiful."
Amanda had no idea what to say or do so as her body shuddered with the spasms of excruciating sexual sensations she simply sighed, groaned and closed her eyes.
Henry pulled her hard against him.  Grinding his erection firmly on her pubic mound as his hand squeezed her breast he whispered.
"Madam I must have you."
Amanda had been imagining being made love to by Henry since they had moved into the wood, but the feel of his erection scared her.  It brought the fantasy of being fucked in a wood as she lost her virginity into reality.  The size and feel of him and the vision of her being naked as that plunged into her was too much for her and she pushed him off.

They obviously exchanged words, but considering the circumstances Henry took it well as he realised that Miss La Salle would not be his first conquest.

For some reason, perhaps because she was in a candlelit room and not a field Amanda did not experience the same concerns when Irving Sanders pressed his full erection against her.  It was on their second date when she returned to Boston with her mother a few months later.  They had exchanged letters after she left Boston and slowly they had become more intimate. Thinking back some years later Amanda realised that presenting Irving with her most precious sexual gift was more a formality and inevitability than it had seemed at the time.

Then, it had been an extreme experience to have him bare her breasts, gaze adoringly yet lustfully at them and moan with sexual adoration as his mouth sucked their creamy flesh and the rubbery pinkness of her nipples.

Then, it had been so adventurous for his hand to slip up her skirt, slide inside her pantalets and rub the hairiness of her mound, to find and press on her clit, to slide along the wetness of her lips and be the first, other than her own to invade the innards of her womanliness.

Then, it been unthinkably ambitious for her to press her hand against the mysterious lump in his trousers and even more so for him to undo them so she could hold the object that they both knew would soon make her a woman. 

And back then it had been agonisingly wonderful for him to undress her and then himself so they held the others naked body in the candlelight of his post graduate quarters.

It had happened quickly and surprisingly easy without the blood that Amanda had feared.  Not unexpectedly Irving wasn't able to accompany the deflowering of Miss La Salle with an orgasm that night.  But he did on two separate occasions during that most fulfilling trip for both of them, and for Florence of course! 

A year or so later, Adam spent a week in New Orleans with his father and two of his friends, both well into their fifties. The four of them spent every night at a brothel, with Adam's father insisting he was present to preside over his nineteen year old son's loss of virginity. 

Amanda was unable to follow up her 'deflowering' with regular sex until she was just over twenty when she went to boarding school in preparation for university. Adam meanwhile, was able to visit brothels regularly in Savannah and occasionally in Atlanta and New Orleans, to further his sexual education.

In addition, his father or one of his friends facilitated regular sex with unmarried slave girls, always making sure they also partook themselves. Their different and unusual sexual apprenticeships served the brother and sister well, both blossoming in the pervading atmosphere of slight decadence that surrounded them at all times.  

Florence, their mother, hated their father, but then most people hated George La Salle, other than a couple of drinking cronies.  He led his own life the way he wanted, and nobody could interfere.  Being a hard line Southern slave owner, he had a strong belief in the primacy of the white man and, as owner of the slaves, believed they were his to do with as he wished.

He could sell them, work them incredibly hard, whip, beat, torture or even kill them when they didn't meet his satisfaction and, when his desire went that way, he would fuck them.  George did all of those things with the same single-minded determination he displayed in all aspects of his life. 

Why and how he had married the libertine northerner, Florence, was a mystery to most people and as the magic of their wedding wore off, it also became a mystery to them as well. Florence, at heart initially when they met in the earlier years of the nineteenth century, and by action and proclamation now they were in the middle of the century, was a liberated lady.  She believed passionately in female emancipation and most other liberal causes. That included freedom for slaves.

Indeed, their views on most topics were almost diametrically opposed. 

The two children were therefore brought up in an unusual and challenging environment that affected many areas of their conditioning including, inevitably, their sexual proclivities and desires. 
Even from a young age, they learned that the rumours of their father's sexual activities were more than just talk. In particular, the siblings discovered that he regularly visited his favourite slave girls. Not surprisingly in such circumstances, their induction into sexual faithfulness was rather damaged and limited.  

This was exacerbated by their mother's behaviour and attitudes. 

Whether she might have held different views and acted more 'normally' had she had a husband she loved, is a matter for conjecture.  She lost respect, and the brief emotion she mistook for love, less than a year into their marriage. Intellectually, she placed little value on monogamy.  She believed that man, in its wider sense, was innately polygamous and that the social conditioning, particularly of women, was unnecessary and a restriction on their growth as human beings, a rare way of thinking at the time.  

Hence, on her visits to New Orleans, Atlanta and her old haunts in the north, she 'practised what she preached.'  Her dalliances with other men over a two or three year period illustrated just what a poor and selfish lover her husband was; another reason for her starting to despise him.   

What she hadn't realised was the effect such a background had on her two children. At such a sexually impressionable age, it was unsurprising that their views and attitudes were formed by their parents' behaviour. 

Due to the isolation of the plantation, they had few friends to mix with.  They were occasionally allowed to play with some of the slave children, or with children of similar ages when relatives or their parent's friends visited. Otherwise, Amanda and Adam grew up very much with just themselves as company.  It was as well they became good friends, for just what life would have been like if they hadn't was unimaginable. 

Up until Adam was eighteen, with Amanda a year older, they were educated at home by a combination of their mother and a resident tutor, Mister Blount.  Their strict teacher's specialisations were English, history, geography and the arts generally with a smattering of mathematics thrown in for good measure.  For the sciences he would organise visits by other tutors two or three days each month.  Inevitably this meant that the siblings' main focus was on the arts, at the expense of the other subjects. 

Whether it was due to that, or the teachings of Florence, both children grew up forming very liberal views and beliefs. 

It was in 1832 that their lives changed completely.  Being sent to boarding school in Charleston, South Carolina in preparation for going on to university was a completely new experience, particularly in view of the strict division between sexes, with little mixing other than at church. 

As most of the pupils were from the South, many went home at weekends.  It was only just over a hundred miles to Savannah and the new railroad allowed the journey to be completed in around three hours. As school finished at lunchtime each Friday, this saw them reach home at Selby for dinner, staying until teatime on the Sunday. 

The school exposed very quickly the deficiencies in their earlier education and Mister Blount's teaching methods, for they were at least a year behind the other young people most of whom had undergone more traditional, school based educations.  It was clear that if they were going to attain university status, they would have to work much harder than others.  

This put a completely different perspective on their planned two years at the school. 

Unlike many of their privileged and pampered 'southern gentry' colleagues who only needed to turn up to gain the right to enter the universities of their choice, the reality for Adam and Amanda was quite different.  It came as a considerable shock to realise they had to attain certain grades if they wished to attend northern colleges, which they both desperately wanted to do. This was in spite of them being aware that with the southern academic institutions, family, connections and appropriate financial contributions played a major part in acceptance and both of those were available to them.  That is of course if they wished to go to go to a Southern university, which they didn't.

Overcome and perturbed at the restrictions on the amount of socialising available to them if they were to achieve their academic aims, they soon buckled down to a gruelling work schedule.  Neither of them shirked from the requirement for work before and after their regular lessons to catch up, nor from the need to remain at the school nearly every weekend and for at least a goodly part of each school holiday during their first year. 

It was during these weekends and holidays that Adam and Amanda completed another part of their education, their sexual experience! Their upbringing gave them few problems or concerns with being promiscuous, and each enjoyed several partners during their school career. 

Adam quickly settled in with the other young men at the Houlding Academy.  He got in with a fast running crowd who, although quite studious, found that their academic success came more from having quick minds than strong work ethics.  They worked hard and played even harder.  

With his extra studies that was hard for Adam, but he soon got used to only four or five hours sleep most nights and occasionally got by without any at all. 

When he began to court an older married woman, Adam occasionally used a classmate's apartment, but circumstances meant that after a couple of months, it was better to rent one of his own.  After a discreet search he found a one bedroomed, first floor apartment overlooking the harbour. It had its own entrance using an uncovered flight of stairs from a small, cobbled courtyard, which was entered from a back street, thus providing a highly discreet entrance. 

Perfect!

The brother and sister were not able to see much of each other during the week, but at weekends and during the holidays they were free to do pretty much as they pleased. Several times they had gone out on dates with partners and they discussed incessantly their studies, their hatred of the plantation and slavery and how they could hardly wait to get to their northern universities. 

Eventually, Adam showed her round the small, clean, and nicely decorated and furnished apartment.

"It's lovely, darling," Amanda told him. "But why do you need it?" 

When he explained about his liaison with Missus Carnel Whitaker, Amanda was shocked but quite impressed by her 'little' brother. 




Savannah 04



"Be careful, Arnold Whitaker is a foul bastard," she warned, feeling very grown up due to the nature of the conversation and her use of the curse word. 

"Yes, so Carnel tells me," he confessed as he made tea. "She hates him." 

They sat opposite each other and Amanda assumed her older sister role, warning him about the dangers of becoming too involved. "If a married woman has one affair with a young man, Adam," she explained. "She almost certainly has had others." 

"I don't think we are in love, Amanda."

"Good, well, take it for what it is then!" 

"I will" Adam said, his keen gaze holding his older sister's eyes.  "You could, of course, use it at any time you wish, Amanda." 

"Use what?" she asked, with a puzzled frown. 

"The apartment," Adam replied. 

Amanda held the fan to her face to disguise her slight embarrassment, only her eyes peering over the top at her brother. "Now why would why I need to do that Adam?" 

For a second, the young man blushed. Not for the first time when in his sister's presence recently. Since leaving home, she seemed to have blossomed, her body had lost the leggy, straightness of youth and had taken on the rounded fullness of a woman. He often blushed at the forbidden thoughts that crossed his mind.

"Yes, I am sorry." he blurted in apology. 

"That's okay, darling," she smiled lowering the fan.

"But then" he went on, pushing the illicit thoughts away. "You could always stay here as a change to the school at weekends. 

"By myself?" 

"Oh yes, well... maybe we could stay together? Have a little break." 

"That would be nice, get the sea air," Amanda added as she stood and walked over to the open French windows to look out across the busy harbour. "But the school wouldn't let me. I am not allowed to stay out overnight." 

"They don't need to know," Adam said excitedly as the idea formed further in his mind. "Let them think you are going home, they never check." 

The two of them together in the flat? Was that proper? For some reason, she felt a little shiver run through her as she sensed her brother move closer behind her. 

"It would be like when we were kids and we stayed in that house on the coast near Savannah wouldn't it?" he continued, staring down at her lustrous, chestnut hair, her bare neck, and arms. With her trim waist and the flare of her hips, he could not help comparing her to Mrs Whitaker and the other women he had made love to. 'None,' he suddenly realised, 'Hold a candle to my sister.' 

"Well not quite like when we were kids, Adam." Amanda said quietly, piecing together the implications in her mind. "We were just young then and we shared a bed, didn't we?" 

Shared a bed? Adam gulped. The thought of sharing a bed with his sister now haunted his senses. Despite himself, he could not resist moving even closer to her, so close he could smell her perfume. 

Amanda heard the floorboards creak and felt the closeness of his presence.  She may have been less sexually experienced than her brother, but like most girls she was far more perceptive, more intuitive and more able to understand others than he was. She understood him far more than he did her.  

Instantly, a premonition of what could happen overwhelmed her.  Nor was it the first time the thought had crossed her mind.  After all, over the past year of so the intimacy, the atmosphere and the tension between them had increased enormously.  She was aware of what he thought were surreptitious glances at her, especially when she wore low cut dresses or, on the odd occasion at home when he saw her in her underwear when Milly, her maid, helped her dress. 

Sexual tension had been building up for some time.  In some ways it was curious that now they could go with others without parental interference, their attraction to each other had grown. As they were alone in the apartment, talking about sleeping there together, reminiscing about sleeping in the same bed when they were younger, that attraction grew even more. 

They both felt it and were fully aware something was happening between them and that they were moving into uncharted waters. It was something that neither could resist, nor did they wish to change course or stop what was driving them.

As if guided by some magical force, Adam placed his hands on his sister's bare shoulders. She shivered.  It felt good, but it was wrong. She knew she should stop him. It was forbidden, it was taboo! He applied a little pressure, turning the contact into a caress. He felt he had lost control of himself and that anything might be possible. 

When she didn't resist Adam's heart leaped, just as his erection grew. 

"Oh Adam, what are we doing?" she groaned her breath coming in quick, pleasurable gasps. 

His hands slid outwards towards her shoulder joints, edging the arms of her silk dress along her shoulders. "I don't know," he whispered. "Shall I stop?" 

Amanda didn't reply, and as his hands slid the material round and over the joint of her shoulders, she leaned backwards against him. Only the sound of their heavy breathing filled the room. This was well beyond anything either had experienced and they were powerless to stop the forces overtaking them.

Amanda pushed her back firmly against him as he pushed the dress down her arms, releasing the bodice and easing the material away from her still growing bosom. Pressing himself against his sister, Adam felt his erection plant itself firmly against the folds of the yellow taffeta of the back of her dress.  

Amanda sighed. What with the dress, the chemise, petticoat, corset and bloomers, the pressure of his hardness was mitigated, but it was there and she could feel it. She knew her brother was erect! Because of her!  The feeling of panic enveloping her was not so much as a result of his actions, but more at the pleasure she was experiencing. If he only knew what she was thinking. 

"Oh Adam" she moaned her skin feeling like it was on fire. 

"Yes Amanda?" he whispered, his hands now seeming to have just one objective.  

Leaning forward, he kissed her neck and felt the shudder run through his sister's body as his hands snaked round her. Dragging the rest of the material away, his hot hands cupped the magnificent swells of his sister's naked breasts feeling her hard nipples burn into his palms.

***

"It's not just the slave issue," Fairfax said, as they dined in his New York apartment. 

"What else is it then?" Amanda asked, as she sucked an oyster into her mouth. 

"We'll never hold the place in the world we should, unless we embrace free trade." 

"Well, why don't we?" Amanda asked, her international trade and economics knowledge on the low side.

"It's you fucking Southerners, you're so against it," he replied, smiling. 

"Hey, not all Southerners are like cavemen, you know." 

"True, just most are with their ideas and their thinking" he responded, adding. "Like Strand and his cronies.  Even now they're starting to refer to it as 'The Confederacy!' It's fucking treason, really." 

"Now, now darling, calm down," Amanda cooed. "You'll get blood pressure or the vapours" she went on recalling Strand using that term, Confederacy.

"I think I have already got that," Fairfax responded, his anger building up. "What with the so called Confederacy and the bloody trouble they are causing. They are so against free trade. They want protection, and resist every effort to open trade up. That's what's behind slavery and the secession problems." 

"Cheap labour, you mean." 

"Exactly!  And that is what has mainly caused the run on the banks in the mid-west and is causing the recession." 

"Come on, Fairfax," Amanda replied. "Surely it's not just the South causing that, it's in Europe as well." 

"Yes that's true, but it started here, my dear. Ohio actually, although Europe is suffering too." 

"I know only too well," she sighed, "The amount I have lost both here and in England gives me sleepless nights."

"Ah, poor thing," he smiled. "But then, it is all relevant. Anyway, enough of that.  Have you thought more about our last discussion?"

Amanda pulled a face. "I'm not quite sure exactly what you did suggest, other than perhaps sleeping with Strand?" 

"I didn't suggest that." 

"Well, implied." 

"Yes" Fairfax said, beaming that smile at her that had melted many hearts in the past. "But only if it took your fancy and you felt like helping to avert a war or, at least, give the good guys an advantage." 

"Fairfax, my love," Amanda said, sipping the chilled white wine and chewing on a lobster, which had been brought down from Massachusetts on the train, packed in ice, by a company Fairfax was funding. "I don't want to sound churlish, but I hear things from you that no one else is talking about." 

"You mean you don't believe me?" 

"Well not that, but well... you know?" 

"You need more corroboration?" Fairfax asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

"Well yes, I suppose I do.  I mean, after all, you are asking me not only to sleep with someone to get you information, but also to be a spy on my fellow Southerners, aren't you?" 

"They are not your fellows Amanda, they are racist, bigoted, insular fools. They are a minority, we think. Most Southerners are decent folk who would agree with the North's views on most things if they were explained to them." 

"Yes maybe, but not slavery. There is hardly anyone in the South who oppose it." 

"They would if they knew the facts," Fairfax insisted.  "That is why we need to find out more about the real Southerners and not just the bigots!" 

"That's as maybe, but you still are asking me to sleep with Strand to get information, aren't you?" 

Fairfax leaned across and took Amanda's hand in his. "Yes, darling I am and it eats my heart out to ask that. But we are desperate! Look, while you are in town, how about if I arranged for you to meet some people?  They can explain and illustrate just what problems we and the country are facing." 

"Who did you have in mind?" 

"I have a meeting arranged with William Lloyd Garrison tomorrow, why don't we come to your hotel for lunch or tea?" 

"Er, Fairfax, if you are asking me to be a spy, do you really think it's a good idea for me to be seen with one of the leading abolitionists in the country?" 

"No, true" he responded, thoughtfully stroking his chin. 

"My faith, Fairfax, I thought you were supposed to star in military intelligence?" 

They both laughed at that, easing the tension that had crept into the conversation. 

"Well, there should be no real problem with you, a true southern belle, plantation owner and a fabulously wealthy socialite meeting with Howell, Breckinridge or John Floyd  should there?"

"John Breckinridge the Vice President?"

"Yes."

"And Howell Cobb, the Treasury Secretary?" 

"The very same," Fairfax nodded. "He is in town for some difficult talks with some English financiers trying to work out something about this bloody recession and, funnily enough, cotton prices." 

"Well, I do hope he can stop them sliding, it's killing us. Who is John Floyd?"

"He's my boss, the Secretary for War."

"You move in impressive circles Mister Lennon."

Fairfax looked pleased and taking her hand he leaned forward and kissed it.  Looking into her eyes he whispered. 

"And they get more impressive by the minute madam.  Would you care to meet them?" 

"Certainly John Floyd I would."

"Why him but I will arrange it?"

"That would be just dandy......................." Amanda said pausing and beaming a smile at Lennon. "Then I can tell him what an ass his military intelligent expert is can't I?" 

"Don't you dare!" Fairfax laughed. "Actually it might not be a good idea to meet Breckinridge."

"Why not?  I was rather looking forward to meeting the young man."

"Now, now Missus Williams pray contain yourself."

"I will try sir I promise.  Bur why stop me seeing him."

"As you know he does come from Kentucky and we are not at all sure where his loyalties would lie if push comes to shove."

"I see, but if I met him I would get a more er, balanced view wouldn't I?"

"Yes of course and feel free to do so, but if it was arranged by me then your Mister Strand would get to know and he has a very effective network."

"I understand I shall just have to put up with two secretaries then won't I?  Quite some threesome" she smiled.

"Look, when do you go to Boston?" 

Amanda told him. 

"I know Lincoln is going to Boston soon and if the dates work, I will arrange for you to meet with him. Yes?"

"Enchante" Amanda cooed fluttering her eyelashes at the general.

***

Adam had left for Boston before Fairfax was able to arrange the meetings with Howell Cobb or John Floyd. That meant Amanda had to find a reason for remaining in New York longer than planned and did so by explaining to Adam that she had some financial discussions on her English assets. 

Fairfax was as good as his word, and over the next few days she met with Cobb and Floyd as well as some less senior, but nevertheless informative government and military figures. Each in different ways told her the same thing.  The South was out of control, it was stuck in the past and was holding back the country's economic development. Slavery had to be stopped. 

"And" as Floyd had said sternly. "At all costs Missus Williams we all have to do whatever it takes to remedy this situation, for be sure that if they do not toe the line, there will be war." 

As she looked into his eyes she couldn't help but wonder whether Fairfax had mentioned about Strand and his request for her to sleep with him to get information for the Union.  Throughout each of the meetings with the other men she had similar thoughts asking herself why else would such important and busy men meet with her?  It was an unusual and odd set of feelings being with men who might well be imagining her in bed with other men including Strand.

As it turned out, Lincoln could not make it to Boston whilst Amanda was there, and it turned out to be nearly another year before she would meet him. 

On her way back from New England, Amanda stopped off in Washington, where Fairfax was also staying. The journey would eventually take her to meet Oliver Strand, a visit she was now dreading. He had been in touch with her by telegraph on several occasions, apologising that he would now not arrive until the seventeenth of July, two days after their previously agreed appointment. 

In his flowery writing style, he 'regretted so totally the delay and prayed as deeply as any man could that she would have the patience and graciousness to await his arrival.'  

The delay suited Amanda well, giving her more time to spend with Fairfax. 

Adam had remained in Boston and was planning on taking a ship down to Savannah where he hoped they would meet up for the short journey to Meldrim. This allowed Amanda some space, as not only was her brother beginning to cramp her style, particularly with Fairfax, he was also becoming more demanding on her.  

It left her with a feeling of dread for what had happened all those years ago when they were at boarding school needed to remain in the past. 

Fairfax wanted her to stay at his modest sized, but beautifully appointed house in Georgetown, but they both knew how unwise that was. They resolved the problem by arranging for her to stay nearby in a guesthouse owned by a friend of his.  For the week she was in Washington, Fairfax had booked the entire house, all six rooms. 

"Mrs Cumberworth is a gem and as discreet as can be," he explained as he eased Amanda's breasts out from darke blue dress, before completely undressing her the afternoon she arrived. 

Generally Amanda along with most women preferred to retire to their boudoir to undress themselves or have their maids help them rather than their lover or potential lover.  It was a complicated, fiddly and lengthy job undressing a Victorian woman and many love affairs had ended before they really got going when the lover made the effort.  Lennon, unusually for Victorian gentlemen, had immense patience and thoroughly enjoyed fiddling his way past, hoops, buttons, hooks and eyes, layers of petticoats, chemises and corsets to get to the flesh of his lover.  And Amanda loved him doing that to her.

Their lovemaking session that afternoon was wonderful, both frantic and gentle at the same time. Afterwards, he told her that Mrs Cumberworth worked for him. 

"Doing what?" 

"Just listening to guests, monitoring information, passing things on?" 

"What spying?" 

"Well, let's call it information gathering?" 

Amanda smiled as she gently scratched his flat stomach, her fingers slipping into his thatch of blonde pubic hairs she said smiling. "So does she have to sleep with southerners as well?" 

"You've seen Missus C, Mands, I don't think that would glean many secrets.  No, she has other methods.  The main thing is that she is totally loyal to me and our cause, so no one, and I mean no one, will know I visit you or that we sleep together." 

The days she spent with Fairfax were wonderful, with the whirlwind of meetings only matched in pace and intensity by the sex they enjoyed together.  With Adam out of the way, and with the discretion of Missus Cumberworth's guesthouse, they were able to sleep together each night she was there. It quickly became clear to both of them that they were falling in love. 

***

"You look delicious, my dear," Oliver Strand told Amanda, his eyes homing in on her bosom as he kissed her hand. The carriage he had sent to collect her from the guesthouse to bring her to his office, in Foggy Bottom, just a few blocks from the White House, had only just pulled up outside his door.  

Quickly they were able to discuss how she could sell the plantation and get the highest price. Strand had some good ideas as to how to find a way round the new Georgian laws that would prevent people from outside the South buying into the cotton industry. 

"Thank you, Oliver" she graciously replied, though her skin crawled at the thought of what may be in store with this toad of a man. 

"I have arranged for you to meet a number of my contacts well friends really," he continued, standing up and looking down at her.  "They are very important and extremely influential and will be able to help us."

"Us?" Amanda asked looking up at him.

"Well you really, but in this Missus Williams we are as one aren't we?"

"Are we Mister Strand?"

Unused to being questioned, especially by a woman, Strand was somewhat at a loss as to how to respond.

"Well yes we are aren't we?  We are partners really" he stammered feeling awkward at not being in control. 

'Fuck, what's happening?' he asked himself being unused to not leading and directing meetings, particularly with a woman where, in his experience, her posing such issues was unknown.

Amanda could see where this was going.  She was not unused to men trying to manipulate her and she saw that as part of life.

"Yes Mister Strand I suppose we are in a way" she replied smiling.

His smirk as she said that told her what was on his mind as he said quietly for him.

"Anyway, before we meet with them, let's have some tea, shall we?" 

She followed him into a small sitting room, set off from the imposing entrance hall.  The double fronted, three-storey house acted as both his offices and his home during the week. This allowed the house just outside the capital, where Amanda had visited him previously, to be used for more formal occasions, though she learned later that at weekends, it was the residence for Missus Strand who disliked cities and city life.  

The French windows of the delightful, beautifully furnished, surprisingly cool room led out to a walled garden. The aromas of the abundance of large shrubs and summer flowers wafted inside, making the room feel as if it was part of the garden. 




Savannah 04



"Please Missus Williams sit here on the chaise," he said, pointing to a long, low couch.  It was always preferable for a lady to sit on such a seat, as opposed to chair, due to her hoops and wide skirts.  

"Thank you Mister Strand," she replied, surprised at his thoughtfulness.

"Oliver please.  Remember Missus Williams?" 

"Yes, of course, so please call me Amanda," she said, beaming a broad smile at him and realising that despite the feelings inside her, it was important to remain on friendly terms.

He again took her hand as he stood over her, bent forward and kissed the back of it. Looking right into her eyes, and then her cleavage, he murmured, "Thank you Amanda that is very noble of you."  

"Not at all," Amanda replied not struggling to remove the hand he held onto as he stood straight. 

They held each other's glances for a few moments; certainly longer than etiquette required. Similar thoughts were going through each of their minds although there was a slightly different emphasise on each of them.  They were both thinking that later they would have sex.  The difference being that Strand relished it whilst Amanda was revolted by the idea of being fucked by the overweight toad of a man. 

Amanda was dragged out of her reveries by Strand's voice.

"Perhaps, Amanda, you would do me the honour of having dinner with me?" he asked, wanting to engineer a situation when they would be alone together. 

Ever since they had last met he had hardly gone any time without thinking of her.  He frequently envisaged her naked and fantasised about the pair of them writhing on his bed as they prepared to have sex,

Her initial reaction was to reject the suggestion and she almost said no thank you. But she realised that she had to play up to Strand not only because of the sale of the plantation, but also because of what Fairfax had requested.  She wasn't too sure which she found more objectionable, giving her body to sell the plantation or having sex to be a spy on her 'homelands.'

"Yes Oliver, that would be nice," Amanda replied, feeling a strange and unexpected surge of adrenalin from the game she was playing.

"Wonderful, but now to business, my dear" he said sharply, suddenly thrusting his hand out. Amanda recoiled a little, momentarily thinking he intended to grab her breast. Instead it was her hand, he took. "Come, let me show you to my office," he continued. We can discuss the meetings I have planned."

As it transpired, the meetings took most of the day. 

The first was with Thomas Kettel, a newspaper editor.  He explained how slavery was integral to the South's prosperity.  He told her how rich the South really was, but how the North and the British were trying to take that away from them.  He seemed to be so knowledgeable and so full of facts and economic information that Amanda's head was a whirl when he left. 

"He's a mine of information, Amanda," her host explained. "But he does go over the top sometimes.  Nevertheless, I wanted you to get his view on things." 

"Why?  I only wish to sell my plantation, Mister Strand." 

"Oliver, please" he corrected her, determined to maintain the intimacy of first name terms. 

"Yes, sorry Oliver, but please explain. Why did you want me to meet him?" 

"Look Amanda," he said, walking round his desk and propping himself on the edge of it right in front of the large armed carver chair where she was seated. "As I know you are aware, we are in a difficult position with the North." 

"What the slavery issue and secession?" 

"Yes that," he agreed. "And more there's free trade, protectionism, raising capital, industrialisation trading with Europe, taxation, the role of the national government. There are so many things we are at loggerheads over." 

"What about them? I do read the newspapers and travel Oliver" Amanda retorted, a little sharply. 

"Yes, yes, of course I know you do, my dear," he assured her. "But I wanted you to understand the complete situation so you can fully appreciate the difficulties with selling Selby and which are confronting our beloved South."

"Yes, I understand," she smiled feeling confused. "But I thought, Oliver that you were going to try to help me sell it for the best price?" 

"I am and I will! But first, I want you to be absolutely sure that you really want to sell. The South, the Confederacy as we are now calling it has a massive fight on its hands and I want you to be part of it Amanda." 

"How?" 

"Be with us in resisting the North's demands. Help us preserve our way of life, Amanda, help us fight the oppressive northern Yankee bastards. Sorry, for my profanity, my dear, but I feel so strongly! Look let's have a light lunch only we don't want to spoil our appetite for dinner tonight do we?" 

Damn! Amanda hadn't realised that he had meant dinner tonight.  She was supposed to be dining with Fairfax, and though he would understand, especially as she would be seeing Strand, she would need to get a message to him to stop him turning up at the guesthouse for dinner. She could do that as Strand's carriage waited while she changed. 

The afternoon meeting was arranged with William Lowneds Yancy.  An influential journalist and politician, Yancy was also a powerful orator, and one of the leading lights in what was becoming known as the 'Secession Movement.' His speeches, she knew, drew huge crowds throughout the South, which he whipped into a frenzy of support for the 'Southern way of life', in other words slavery, as well as the possibility of leaving the union and inciting hatred in their fellow countrymen 'the Yankees.' 

He had many of the mannerisms of both a zealot and a bigot, much like Strand himself.  Amanda formed an instant dislike for him, exacerbated when he launched into a diatribe about the way that the North and the British were poking their noses into the South's affairs and how they had to be stopped.

"And Oliver, my friend, it will be us, 'the Fire-Eaters,' who will be at the forefront of doing that won't we?" He ended, causing Amanda's ears to prick up as she registered the information in her mind. 

The second afternoon meeting was with another journalist, James Dunwoody Brownson de Bow.  The famous man was also a publisher, owning the highly influential Southern propaganda magazine, de Bow's Review, a journal that Amanda had occasionally read.  He was a far more reasonable and intelligent a man than Strand and Yancy and Amanda liked him. 

"Perhaps, Missus Williams, the next time you are in New Orleans I could have the honour of showing you how the magazine is assembled?" he asked, as he was leaving. The glint in his eye, the slight excess of pressure holding her hand, and his lingering look at her breasts suggested that his motives were more than simply showing Amanda his printing press. The fact that in addition to his clear intelligence and obvious charisma, James was also devilishly good looking, made the prospect of looking at printing presses quite attractive to her, she smiled.

"That would be perfect Mister de Bow" she replied.  "But I have no plans to visit the area."

"Then maybe you could be persuaded to change your plans Missus Williams?" He asked his dark eyes almost boring into hers as he smiled and added.  "I would be delighted to show you my city."

"We will see Mister de Bow, we will see."

"Yancy has a wonderful brain," Strand said as they waited for the next meeting. "He can be a little intense, but by God, how he drives the movement! He may well be our saviour, you know?" 

"Hmmm, yes maybe," Amanda replied, trying hard not to show her distaste for the odious, arrogant and bigoted man. Her preference was for the much more affable, James de Bow. 

"And Mister de Bow?" she asked

Strand smiled arrogantly from his position behind Amanda. The way her chestnut hair was piled up on top of her head, the ringlets tumbling down onto her bare shoulders and her slim back, looked adorable. 'Fuck how I want this woman' he said to himself as he moved closer and rested his hand lightly on her shoulders. 

Amanda stiffened at his touch.  Turning her head to look at the short, podgy fingers of Strand's left hand, she noticed the fraternity ring and his beautifully manicured nails. He seemed to take the glance as approval to slowly rub his hand along the muscle connecting her neck and shoulder.  She wanted to push his revolting touch away, but somehow resisted. The thought of those fingers on her breasts or between her thighs, as she knew was becoming more and more inevitable, made her shudder in disgust. 

"As for Mister de Bow" he went on edging two of his fingers just slightly under the silk of the armband of her dark blue dress. "I think that gentleman should wait his time before propositioning the most eligible divorcee in the South, don't you?" 

"Do you think he was doing that, Mr Strand?" she asked, turning her head further towards him so that she could look up into his eyes. 

"Oh yes, undoubtedly. de Bow has an eye for the ladies, married though he is for the fourth time. But then who can blame him where you are concerned Amanda?" He asked, holding her gaze and pressing a little more firmly with his fingers now on both her shoulders. 

"Well, thank you kind sir, for the compliment," she said, reaching up to place her hand on his. "I will bear your concern in mind should I visit New Orleans. But pray remember sir, I am not yet a divorcee, simply parted from Mister Williams." 
"Surely madam, that's simply a semantic, is it not?" He all but sneered.

"That is as maybe, but I prefer to keep the record straight, Mister Strand. I am still a married woman" Amanda said, standing up to face the smiling man. 

"Yes, my dear," he retorted. "But not one that is 'spoken for' as it were are you?" 

That made Amanda smile. "Well, not in America no" she admitted.

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. "I take your point about still being married, Amanda. It may not have escaped your notice that I have a similar problem." 

"Problem, Mister Strand?" she frowned.  "Surely being married to the charming Missus Strand is not a problem, sir?" 

"Yes..." he paused, as if undecided as to whether to continue with such a delicate subject. "I am sorry, forgive me, it is not a problem that I cannot handle. But it is an issue." 

"Pray sir, what do you mean?" 

The arrogant man took his hands from Amanda's shoulders and walked around to stand in front of her. "Missus Strand and I have not been married, as such, if you get my drift ma'am, for many years." 

"I see." 

"Do you? Do you really see, Amanda?" 

She looked away for a second. Was he about to proposition her? "I think so yes" she finally answered.

Strand moved a little closer so that they were looking at each other from less than three feet apart. The toes of his shoes slid slightly under her widely hooped skirt. 

"Pray forgive me for possibly being assumptive Missus Williams, Amanda," he said, tilting his head. "But are we not in the same situation?" 

"I do not follow you at all Mister Strand," she replied, understanding him perfectly, but playing for time. "Please elucidate for me." 

Strand's face broke into a look that was part way between a smile and a leer as he leaned forward and took her hand in his. 

"In our situations and with our positions in society, Amanda, it is difficult to find the comfort we sometimes need, isn't it?"

So that was it, he was becoming bolder! Don't respond, she told herself. Let him continue. 

"Without causing unnecessary scandal and upset, of course." 

"Of course Mister Strand."

"You appreciate madam what I am saying I assume?"

"Yes I now fully understand you" Amanda said, as he raised his eyebrows and awaited a response. She used her fan as a cover to hide her face.

"I am pleased and flattered that you do Amanda and that we can talk this way," he smiled, as a knowing look came across his face. Lifting her hand, he bent forward to stare into her eyes. "And hopefully Amanda, we can talk further on this topic at dinner this evening?" 

"At your choice sir, after all I will at your table." she replied in a non-committed way as he bent closer to kiss her hand.

"Indeed you will madam and I thank for accepting my meagre invitation."

Holding his gaze and smiling, Amanda gently extricated her hand from his.  "So, our next appointment Oliver?" she asked in what she hoped was a purposeful tone. 

Spinning away from her to hide his annoyance at the way she'd rejected his hand and changed the subject, he said over his shoulder, "We have a tea meeting with a group of people, influential and important of course." 

"Will they be able to help with Selby Bluff?" she asked bluntly.

"Patience my dear," he answered, spinning back around to face her. "They need to get to know you and trust you first."

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course."

The look on his face changed to a sly smile. "As, indeed, I do Amanda.  I need to get to know you very well if we are to do what you wish and gain the highest price available." 

Amanda felt a shiver run through her. "That is what we are doing, is it not sir?" she politely replied, attempting to head off where he was certainly going.  "Getting to know each other better?"

"Yes ma'am, we've made a start, of course. And hopefully at dinner tonight, we will take that further.  I have arranged for us to eat here.  Missus Calthorpe will prepare a cold meal that we can serve ourselves." 

"Why is that?" she asked, only too well aware of his intentions. 

"Just discretion, my dear. It's always best, for both parties, to avoid giving tongues things to wag about!" 

Although Strand had immense influence and power and really did know people in very high places, he was starting to worry about his ability to assist Amanda in such difficult times.  The new laws were even more restrictive than he had envisaged when he had signed the original legislative orders and he was not at all sure that he could get the sort of price he had suggested was possible.  The thought of being seen by Amanda as a failure irritated him and made him resolve to have her as soon as possible, just in case he couldn't keep his part of the arrangement.

***

The tea meeting lasted from four until six. She tried hard to remember as many names as possible to report to Fairfax, but only Nathaniel Beverly Tucker, John A. Quitman, Thomas C. Hindman and William Porcher Miles remained in her memory. The others who joined and left became only faces without names in her memory. 

The discussions revolved around trade, the recession, cotton and grain prices, the French, Prussians and British sympathies and the worsening situation with the North.  Several times she heard the term 'Fire-Eaters' and noted a strange sort of handshake, which she took to be a secret sign of acknowledgement, possibly a sort of gesture indicating membership of that group. As Fairfax was aware of them they couldn't be a secret society like the Freemasons, but she wondered just how much they kept themselves to themselves. 

"I need to go and change," she told Strand after the last meeting. 

"Yes that's fine.  Good idea," he replied, his hungry looking her up and down. 

"Wear a more evening dinner type of dress," he suggested, as if the dark green silk dress was too modest for their evening together. "Perhaps a European fashion?"  

"Yes, of course," Amanda replied, realising his meaning immediately. 

"Take my carriage. Use it as if it is your own, my dear.  Shall we say seven thirty for pre-dinner drinks?" 

"It's just after five thirty now, so that will be fine" she smiled, anxious to be on her way. "I bid you good afternoon then Mister Strand." 

"Oliver, please," he reminded her, taking the opportunity to move closer and place his hands on her bare arms.  Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her cheek.  

Despite her repulsion, Amanda didn't flinch. 

"Until then my dear, I am so looking forward to dinner." 

"Yes, Oliver thank you," she responded showing little enthusiasm as she wondered how on earth she was going to cope. "And then, Amanda, we can talk more about all the issues!" 

Waiting until she was secure in the carriage, Amanda wrote a short note to Fairfax.  It told him that she would be dining with Strand tonight and gave brief details of the events of the day.  Stopping at one of the recently introduced telegraph and messaging offices, she asked the footman to arrange for the message to be delivered as soon as possible to Fairfax's office. 

Another ten minutes saw them reach the guesthouse and Milly ran out to greet Amanda. 

"Welcome home ma'am" she curtsied, as the footman helped Amanda out of the open top carriage. "I was asked to hand this message to you the moment you arrived." 

"Thank you, Milly," Amanda replied, tearing the envelope open.  As she hoped, it was from Fairfax. 

My dearest Amanda 
Of course I will miss you this evening and my thoughts will be with you for its entirety. 
The Fire-Eaters are of enormous interest to us and anything, and I must emphasise anything, you can find out will be of considerable importance.  Please try your hardest. Whatever it takes!
All my love 
F. 

So typical Amanda thought, as she saw the initial, rather than his name; she knew he was protecting himself by making it impossible to prove the message was from him should it fall into the wrong hands.  Also the almost callous way he accepted that she would be sleeping with Strand was hurtful, but in the circumstances, just about understandable, so, naturally, Amanda forgave him. 

As Amanda took tea on her balcony, Milly prepared her bath. The addition of salts produced a wonderful aroma and foam that she knew her mistress loved. Amanda walked into the dressing room and allowed Milly to undo the small buttons on her bodice.  Shrugging that off, she stood with her hands on her hips as the maid began to undo the laces on the corset. Eventually, they had removed her hoop cage, the enormously flared skirt and the single petticoat and finally the corset. 

"Oooo, that's better Milly," Amanda muttered rubbing her sides where there were some red marks from the tightness of the restricting garment that she removed. "It feels lovely to release myself." 

Her breasts sagged a little from where the made to measure corset had been pushing her already substantial bosom upwards. Amanda rubbed the undersides of each breast, to ease the slight irritation that the firm whalebone caused, and then slid the chemise off. Milly knelt down, offering her mistress her knee as a rest for her foot so that the maid could undo and remove the fashionable laced ankle boots. 

Amanda slipped the 'beneath the knee' length, cotton and broderie anglais pantalets down her legs to enable Milly to help her with her, white, silk stockings. 

After her luxurious bath, she told Milly what she would be wearing that evening.  Milly, a nineteen-year-old country girl from southern Georgia, enjoyed towelling her mistress dry, but then she took pleasure in most aspects of working for Amanda. 

Clean, dry, powdered and perfumed, Amanda felt wonderful, despite her trepidation as to what lay ahead this evening. Although she had remained non-committal, and had done her best to leave Strand with the impression that she did not really understand his references to 'the comforts we need,' she knew they were both only too well aware of his meaning.  Tonight, he wanted her body! 

Strangely, Amanda was becoming more resigned to that.  And in her own curious way, she came to the conclusion that if he was to have her, then she was going to be the best he had ever experienced! 

Thus, she wore black, silk stockings, the same she had worn for Richard on the sea voyage and which she had not used since that wonderful time. God that seemed such an age ago now!




Savannah 05



Oliver Strand rubbed his podgy hands with anticipation as Amanda's carriage concluded the gentle twenty-five minute ride from her lodgings and came to a stop outside his house. She'd taken his suggestion as to her dress, and looked every bit as beautiful as he had anticipated. 

He had slightly known and been introduced to Amanda before she left the South for college and then England, but they had never really had much to do with each other, certainly not in the way that he liked when he met full breasted, curvy figured young women.

Over the years, he had learned about Amanda's life and was pleased when he heard about her marriage break up and her impending return to the family plantation. Since meeting her properly at the Cotton Christmas Ball, he had become very single minded about his desire for getting her into his bed and that had become a key objective in his life.

But he had bigger plans for her as well. He was aware of her connections in the North from her time at college and living there with her husband. He was also aware that she knew many prominent Yankees, including General Fairfax Lennon. His contacts had informed him that she had dined with the head of military intelligence several times in New York, and also here in Washington just last week. 

Fairfax might be head of military intelligence, but Strand had his own very effective network as well. He would have absolutely no compunction whatsoever about adding Amanda to that network and persuading her to spy on her Yankee 'friends.' At the back of his mind was the idea that he could use the assistance he was offering her as a lever to persuade her to feed him information about the North and its plans.

As the carriage stopped in the small shingled courtyard of his office, and occasional living quarters in Foggy Bottom, Strand pushed past the driver and opened the door to the carriage.

"That will be fine, Jenkins," he said, holding his hand out to Amanda as she leaned forward to alight from the closed carriage. "Just put the stairs there for Missus Williams please, I'll handle the rest."

She was wearing a highly fashionable two-colour outfit. It had a tight, white, low cut bodice with black lace around the neck and small, black buttons running up from her waist to the low cut neckline. The black with white piping and lace trimmed skirt was fully hooped and beautifully layered. The fullness of the skirt was in stark, but alluring contrast to the slim, tautness of the bodice. 

"Welcome back, Amanda" he said, taking her hand as she stepped down. Her partially covered breasts almost touched him as he bent his arm to aid her progress down the steps, which the footman Jenkins had put in place.

She smiled, "Thank you. It is very nice to be back Mister Strand." 

"Now, please, how many times must I remind you? I insist on Oliver and Amanda." 

"Why, certainly sir" she smiled. "It just slips my mind to be so intimate after knowing a gentleman for such a short time." 

Smirking in an oily way Strand oozed back. "Ma'am, short the time may be, but surely it has been er, how should we phrase it, close and meaningful perhaps? Yes I think that sums up our relationship, don't you Amanda?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she inclined her head to one side, slightly fluttered her eyelids and covered her face with her fan, providing a completely non-committal persona.

Slipping his arm through hers to walk her into the house, he said, "Well then, my dear, this evening presents the ideal opportunity for us both to do something about that. To make it even more close and meaningful, doesn't it?" 

Smiling, knowing full well his meaning, Amanda decided to play a coy game. As he stood aside to let her through the doorway, she replied. 

"Pray sir... sorry, Oliver! Whatever can you mean?" 

Strand had always been a man who took risks, one who chanced his arm, pushed things and sometimes went for broke. He relied on his intuition and instinct, far more than most men. And he sensed that this was a time to go with his gut feel. As they walked into the light oak, panelled entrance hall, he pulled on Amanda's elbow, stopping and turning her so that they faced each other. 

Putting his arms round her before she could stop him, he pulled her to him and attempted to kiss her, muttering, "This madam, I meant this." 

Amanda's immediate reaction was to push him away, but instinct stopped her even as she began to protest. She needed his help and his connections, and her quick mind whirled into action. Leaning back so that his mouth could not reach hers she said.

"But sir, this is so sudden, so extreme." 

Strand went on the offensive. His inner self took over, the self that had raped many black slave and several white trash women. The self that had tortured a variety of harlots and whores and the self that had seen him force himself on so many women over the years. 

"Don't talk arrant rubbish," he growled as he pulled Amanda's body against him. "You have known as well as I, that this was going to happen," he muttered pressing his lips firmly against hers. 

It was true, of course. After all, she had chosen her outfit expressly for being undressed and having sex with Strand. She had worn her sheerest, black stockings, her sexiest, silk pantalettes and she had daringly dispensed with both her chemise and camisole, and was wearing her corset next to her skin. 

The stunningly low cut, French gown had no extra material, as was the American fashion, to cover her breasts. Without the chemmy and camisole, they were tantalisingly on display, much more so than was normal in American society. 

She had come to this meeting showing more of the flesh of her bosom than Strand would probably have ever seen on a 'dressed' woman, other than in a brothel, perhaps. Yes, she had arrived at his house with most of her splendid tits on show. And to a man like Strand, that meant just one thing! She was ready and willing to be fucked! 

His arms were around his prey's slim back, his fingers finding the laces of her firm corset. Pulling Amanda against his broad chest and crushing her breasts, she gasped with surprise and, she was amazed to realise, excitement. 

"You know you want me, Amanda," he said, roughly pushing his tongue against her closed lips. She tried to keep them closed, but her sense of pragmatism, that touch of excitement she was feeling and the persistence of Stand's tongue, slowly forced them apart. 

To Oliver Strand, a woman opening her mouth and allowing his tongue to slide inside, had almost equal significance to her opening her legs for him to lie between. Both gestures said, you can fuck me! 

His kiss was deep and passionate. He kissed her on both lips and then just the top one. He shoved his tongue forcibly deep into her mouth and then sucked on her bottom lip. She shivered as he plastered kisses all over her chin and cheeks, and then down her neck and throat and onto her shoulders. 

Strand took her shudder to be excitement and responded by kissing and sucking along her collar bone. His hand pushed against the thick silk of her hooped skirt, trying but failing to reach and feel the delights that lay beneath. The dress was too well made and voluminous for that. 

Amanda had such a complex mix of emotions rushing through her mind, and body. Fear, surprise, rage, dislike all welled in her heart. But, most disappointingly of all, she felt excitement. The last time she'd experienced rough sex was with an enormously well endowed, mixed race boxer in London. It had left her breathless.

Despite herself, her struggles were half hearted as she felt a familiar tingle between her loins. There was no doubt that as Strand was becoming more excited by the second so, amazingly and very worryingly, was Amanda. 

"Come on, you feisty vixen, you know this is what you want" he growled into her ear. 

His hand at last found what it had wanted since the moment he had seen the 'grown up' Missus Williams at the ball last Christmas. He grabbed her not insubstantial breast and squeezed it, not caring whether he caused pain.

"Ouch," she grunted, flinching from the contact. "That hurt." 

"Sorry," Strand grunted, but made no effort to slow his actions. Forcing his fingers inside the neckline of her dress, he revelled in the feelings of the mass of soft, pliant flesh in the palm of his hand. Amanda's breast felt every bit as good as it looked. Without consideration for her discomfort, he aggressively yanked the mounds out from the restrictions of the dress, his eyes registering his lust. 

"Oh God, Amanda, your breasts are wonderful," he grunted, bending his face towards the soft flesh. His eyes flashed with smug satisfaction at the hardness of her nipple. "You want this as much as I do, you sexy aroused bitch," he muttered, as his mouth closed over her extremely swollen bud. 

Amanda's head was in a whirl. She knew she had to go through with this, and part of her was confessing that she did indeed want it, too. But everything was happening too quickly. "Oliver please," she pleaded, trying to push him off. 

"No!" he insisted, his voice full of lust. "You knew the price Amanda. You agreed and you know you want it! You want me!" 

"But not now, not here," she cried, desperate for a way out. Being fucked by a man she despised was one thing, being fucked by him on a carpet in an entrance hall where, for all she knew a servant or, worse, one of Strand's business colleagues could come by, was something totally different. It would be humiliating.

Her cries brought Strand to his senses. Although he only kept a skeleton staff at this location, drawing them from and returning them to his main Washington residence as needed, he knew that it would be unfortunate if any of them saw what was happening. Not for the embarrassment it would cause, for Strand had no such morals. But finding good staff was difficult and the maid or footman that would be so unlucky as to witness the scene would be immediately fired and shipped out of the capital. 

"Yes madam, I am sorry," he gasped, backing away from Amanda in a calculated attempt to reassure her. "Your beauty and your perfect body, inflamed my ardour, and I can but apologise for my sudden actions. Forgive me, please!" 

"Thank you Mister Strand," Amanda replied, panting from the effort of pushing her attacker away. Despite herself, she felt waves of arousal flood through her at the thought of being taken so roughly. God, servants or no servants, she'd almost allowed him to do what he wished. And she realised as they moved apart she could hardly now blame that on sexual frustrated; her few days with Fairfax had put paid to that!

She went to adjust her clothes. The sight of his gaze on her bountiful breasts hanging out from the neckline of her dress only served to arouse her more. 

Strand grabbed her hand. "No, madam, pray leave them for me to feast my eyes as we dine." 

My God, Amanda thought. The animal wants us to have dinner with me sitting there with my tits out. Even that outrageous thought sent another waft of arousal through her body, though such an idea was preposterous. Wasn't it? "But sir, I beseech you! I can't! Not with your servants around!" 

Strand slyly smiled and licked his fat lips. "Don't worry your pretty head about my servants, Amanda, I will send them away. Come with me." 

His sweaty palm grabbed her hand, pulling her with him further into the house, her bare, unfettered breast jiggling provocatively. With each step, Strand's glances over his shoulders devoured her naked flesh. Amanda had to almost run, such was her host's urgency as he dragged her by the hand up a narrow staircase and along a short, pine panelled corridor to the rear of the house. 

The door he eventually opened led into a modest sized dressing room, with a number of closets, a table to lay dresses out on, and three chairs adjacent to another door to the right. 

"Now my dear," he slurred, unable to take his eyes from her wonderful breasts. For a moment, Amanda thought he was going to grab them again. She realised with horror that part of her actually wanted him to. 

"You stay her and ready yourself for dinner," he growled.

"Pray, Oliver," she responded hoarsely, attempting to control her breathing as she used her black fan to cover her nakedness. "I don't understand! Whatever do you mean?" 

"We will eat dinner alone, Amanda! We will serve ourselves, there will be no servants! In a few moments, they will all be leaving for the evening." His hand pushed away the fan Amanda was using to hide her embarrassment, which increased as leering at her he added "And for the entire night.

"So you see, madam," he mumbled, saliva almost dripping from his fat lips as he leered at her breasts. "Modesty is not necessary, no one will be here, just you and me." 

"Oh," Amanda muttered, feeling another surge of excitement at his proposal. The knowledge that this man was desperate for her sent a shiver through her voluptuous body, but recently she had no real understanding of her emotions and why she felt the way she did.

Strand instantly closed the gap between them, unable to resist the wanton sight she presented to him. Roughly pulling her to him, her naked breasts squashed into his chest as his hungry mouth found her lips again. 

Such was her arousal, Amanda found herself opening her mouth, allowing his tongue to delve inside. The feeling of her hard nipples brushing against his silk waistcoat was exquisite. 

"What it means, my dear," Strand breathed between kisses, is that I want you undressed as we eat dinner. Leave just enough on to titillate me! Understand?" Staring intently at her he nodded, as if that reinforced that this was an instruction, not a request. "Forgive me for a moment, for I must take care of the servants. After all, we do not want to be disturbed, do we?

The sneering smile he gave her as he turned on his heel and left the room made Amanda feel light headed, very confused and slightly revolted, no very revolted, but now at herself as much as at him. Previously, this was a fate to be endured. Now, the thought of being made love to by this rough monster already had made her wet. Being made love to? No -- she was going to be fucked! 

Alone in the dressing room, she wondered how far to go with her clothes. She had heard of parties, orgies, in England where the participants wore very little as they drank and ate. She had heard about brothels where nude dining was the vogue. 

There was no doubt Strand really meant what he'd said! His eyes and tone had confirmed that. And the thought sent another waft of arousal through her body. She realised she needed this almost as much as he did and she started to undress. The only redeeming factor was that she wouldn't have to endure a man undressing her; it really was almost a torture.

'Well at least' she conjectured pragmatically, 'It will prevent him pawing my finest French gown.'

*

Fairfax was pleased with the way things were going. Whilst it had been at the back of his mind to ask for Amanda's help he hadn't expected her to as it were 'hand it to him on a plate.' He was slightly perturbed at just how readily she had agreed with his oblique suggestion of using her body to gain information and that made him wonder whether she had already decided to do that to ease the sale of Selby. His trained intelligence mind told him that she probably had and that didn't bother him one iota; to him sex was merely a commodity.

Having Amanda announce that she wouldn't be able to meet him that evening pleased him. He hoped it would mean that she would probably have sex with Strand and might glean some useful information and it also meant that he could travel to New York on the overnight train. This was a new initiative by the railroad and came about from the encouragement of the government in Washington and the merchants and financiers of New York. 

Until very recently the trains stopped overnight and passengers disembarked and slept in guest houses that had been built near stations. An enterprising entrepreneur from Germany had developed and launched a 'sleeping car' that was made up of small, some said cell-like, rooms with beds. One train containing two of these cars left Washington and another New York at nine o'clock three evenings each week. This meant that the passengers could arrive in central New York city or the capital early the next morning perform a day's work and return home over the next night.

Prior to his assignation with Amanda being cancelled Fairfax had planned to travel the next day and had scheduled late afternoon and evening meetings as usual hoping against hope that there would be no significant delays. By travelling overnight he was able to arrange more meetings and bring some of the others forward from the evening, thus giving him more time with his long-term mistress.

*

Strand's eyes popped out like organ stops when Amanda walked into his private quarters. The tongue that had been devouring her mouth ran across his fat lips as his gaze took in every inch of the voluptuous beauty. The cock that longed for her began to unfurl in his breaches and reach its full potential.

"I hope you don't mind Oliver," she murmured seductively, posing for a moment so that his eyes could drink in all of her beauty. "But I am wearing stockings as well. I trust my attire pleases you?" 

As she walked in Strand had exclaimed to himself. 'My God, my fucking God, she looks incredible.'

"Please me?" he stuttered. "Madam, you are nothing short of magnificent!"

Amanda smiled coquettishly. Somehow, pleasing him and inflaming his lust only served to increase her own arousal. Her recollection of Captain Richard Jarvis's reaction to her stockings added to the sensation. 

Wearing just her corset and her English bloomers, she had let her hair down so that its chestnut curls were cascading over her bare shoulders. The small gap between the bottom of her pale grey, corset left part of her stomach exposed, and by removing her shoes, Strand could see the black silk of her stockings under her bloomers that ended well above her slim ankles. 

"Magnificent" Strand repeated, his gaze circling her body before returning to her crowning glories, the feature that so strongly attracted Strand's attention. Bare and powdered, her unfettered breasts looked magnificent. Strand could not drag his gaze away from their shape and majesty, his hungry eyes focusing on the fiercely hardened nipples and the mound of flesh that jiggled so seductively as she moved. 

His face looked like he was close to hyperventilating at the erotic sight posing for him. He pulled at his jacket, dropping it to the hard floor, quickly followed by his waistcoat and cravat. With his white, cotton shirt open at the throat, Amanda could see the black, grey-flecked hair at the top of his chest.

With a lecherous smile that sent shivers to her very core, Strand moved behind one of the high backed dining chairs placed each end of the small table located in the bow window of his room. 

"Madam," he gasped. "Pray be seated, dinner will shortly be served." 

His hungry eyes devoured every part of Amanda's body as she sashayed across the room, looking far more confident than she felt. Her corset kept her back straight so her breasts were pushed out and her tummy held in. Determined to put on a show, but not fully understanding why, she shuffled a little making her breasts jiggle deliciously as she took her place. 

Strand adjusted the chair as she sat down, staring intently at her pale, smooth skin and her deep, copper coloured hair that was tumbling down onto her breasts. The way the odd ringlet fell onto the swell of her breasts only made the sight more appealing. Seeing a woman dressed like this reminded him of high class whores and he immediately hardened to a level that was unusual for him in recent times. 




Savannah 05



Tonight, she was going to be his whore!

It wasn't that Strand just loved fucking women, what he desired even more was controlling them. Fucking women was the means to controlling them, and controlling them meant fucking them. They were intertwined, but the idea of controlling a beautiful woman was the ultimate satisfaction. And this beauty was his to control.

Control her, bend her to his will, and then fuck her! His cock throbbed at the thought! 

From the moment that sex became a possibility he had gradually increased the tempo of his advances and the force with which he was making them. The slow control he gradually exerted had been an aphrodisiac to him. One that he'd found it difficult to resist when she had arrived this evening and he had forced himself upon her.

That same control was the reason he had insisted she was to dine with him in her underwear. Not only because he could he could savour her body while they ate, as exciting as that was, to him it was another means of exerting his control over her. 

And the fact that he was gaining control more by a sort of blackmail, by promising to assist the plantation sale, was immaterial to him. No, that was not quite true, in some ways it added even more to his excitement. In addition, coaxing her into spying for him would be yet another element to his control over this filly. To him, using all the tools at his disposal proved just how clever he was. 

Amanda stared at her host, wondering what thoughts were going on behind those pinprick eyes. She was a strong, self-contained woman, and throughout her adult life had always been attracted to strong men.. Men with alert minds and dynamic demeanours. Powerful men, influential, important and successful men. Men who ran business empires, government departments, huge estates in England and now the State of Georgia in America. 

It was the power they exerted that was the attraction, power over others, the ability to control and shape their own destiny. That was the feeling she was experiencing right now. This man had that power, and the submissive streak he'd forced onto her by insisting she strip to her underwear for dinner reinforced his power.

He was fully in control of the situation, and in control of her. They both knew that, and the knowledge sent little flutters of excitement through her body. She was not able to think through the feelings she was experiencing as analytically as she wished, or as deeply as they required. But sitting opposite the man who wanted her with such animal like intensity, she felt a craving to be abused and demeaned. 'What a contradiction I am' she thought to herself feeling concerned, but not unduly worried about that.

She hated admitting it even to herself, but this wasn't the first time she'd felt that way. But it was the first real opportunity that had been presented to her to live out that craving, to live her fantasy! 

Unknowingly to Strand, the very things he was forcing on her played precisely to the needs and desires that had begun to surface in this complicated woman. 

That was why she had so easily acquiesced to his order to undress. It was the reason she had bared her breasts for him like a wanton harlot! It was why she was now standing by the dining table, in the flickering candlelight of his bedroom clad in just her coloured corset, her mid-calf length, lacy bloomers and her dark silk stockings. It was why she was looking like a high-class whore!

And more than anything, it was why she would later submit to this man, give herself to this animal, let Strand fuck her like the slut she was! In her mind it was a form of atonement.

"Please Amanda, let me serve you dinner" she heard him say, his voice bringing her out of her reverie. 

She licked her tongue across her dry lips forcing the thoughts to the back of her mind. "Well thank you, kind sir" she all but croaked. "But is it more appropriately my place to serve you?" 

Strand smiled condescendingly. He had this woman exactly where he wanted.

"Yes Madam, it is," he told her, in a tone that confirmed his superiority. "But you will serve me later, and that moment cannot arrive quickly enough. But before then, allow me to be your host." 

The meal passed quickly, the small talk doing nothing to dissipate the heavy air of sexual tension in the air. Amanda's arousal grew at the thought of submitting herself so wantonly, while Strand's increased at the thought of controlling and fucking this woman. This whore. His whore!

The cold soup, fresh, poached salmon, cold cuts of beef, turkey and pork and then strawberries with cream had been washed down with lashings of red and white wine. They both sipped port as Strand enjoyed a pipe with them acting as if it was simply a dinner a deux. And that for some inexplicable reason added to the excitement rippling through the air.

Then it was time! 

"Madam" Strand announced pulling himself to his feet and letting out a loud belch. "I can wait no longer to taste that fabulous body. Come!" 

He walked over to the bed in the corner of the room and with hardly a glance at his soon to be conquest, he shed his clothing and laid on the bed. The astute man knew exactly what he was doing. By acting in such a way, he was reinforcing his control and testing Amanda's reaction. He had anticipated having to take her by force, but her meek submission was both a highly pleasant surprise and a massive arousal for him. 

"May I serve you some strawberries sir?" the nervous woman asked, seeking to put off the moment until she could control the beating in her heart. She collected the silver bowl of strawberries in her hands, the bottoms of her full breasts just touching the rim of the bowl as she carried it to the bed. 

Her eyes stared across at the naked man. Strand was overweight, there was no doubt about that, but then so were so most men in the circles in which Amanda moved. She guessed that he had once had a fine body, but like many of his age group that was now a thing of the past. Overeating and excessive drinking, combined with a lack of exercise had taken its toll. Yet, strangely, the thought of being taken by his podgy form, compared to Fairfax's impressive physique, made her anticipation grow further. 

"Yes," he leered, staring at her breasts and wondering what it would be like to cover them in cream. "Pour us some champagne first! The bottle is open." 

Leaving the bowl on the side of the bed, Amanda made a show of turning and retracing her steps back to the table acutely aware that Strand's eyes were on her. Past lovers had told her how delicious her bum looked when she wore just her bloomers, or was naked. The way she accentuated the wiggle and sway of her hips for this obnoxious, but oddly interesting bastard of a man, emphasising the undulation of her ripe, full buttocks, increased the wetness gathering between her thighs. 

Strand panted as he stared at the glorious sight, unable to resist the need to grab and stroke his now full erection. His active mind envisaged the moment he would pull her pantalets down to her knees with her body bent at the waist and her buttocks on show and available to him. He visualised pulling her across his lap, and spanking her whore's ass until it was red and tingling and she begged him to stop. 

All in good time. Like a young colt, she had to be broken in first and tonight would see the first steps in that process. 

When she coyly returned and handed him one of the two glasses of champagne, he downed it in one swig. 

"Again," he ordered, holding his glass out. 

She stared at the way he continued to stroke himself as she followed his lead and swallowed her own drink, before refilling their glasses. Soon, that cock would be inside her punishing her, abusing her she mulled.

Swilling down the second glass of champagne, he nodded for her to do the same. The more alcohol she consumed, the more compliant she would be was his very male and not necessarily incorrect way of thinking. Handing her his empty glass so that she could perch it on the side table, he patted the bed beside him. When she obediently took her place, he ran his hand through her hair and down the skin of her back.

His mouth found her lips, content that there was no hint of resistance this time. His tongue probed her mouth while his pawing hand cupped her breast, delighting in the fullness and weight.

To establish his control he watched the look in her eyes as he roughly pinched her nipple, making her wince. Amanda realised what he was doing and though she gasped, she gave no other indication of the pain. She was determined not to acquiesce to his perverted pleasures although, by allowing him to do them without protest was, in itself, submission, she recognised thinking 'yet another conflict.'

Amanda was aware that was odd logic, but then this was not mathematics, which, in any case, had always been her academic Achilles heel! 

Strand smiled lasciviously and squeezed her breast again, pulled and pinched her nipple harder, so that she had to grit her teeth to stop crying out. She really is a feisty bitch, he thought, delighting in her reaction. He would get a lot of pleasure from breaking this one! 

Her glass fell from her hand as he pulled her down on the bed, spilling the remaining champagne on her bloomers. Roughly dragging her across his knees, he pulled her face to his again and savaged her lips with his. He'd show this bitch who was in control! 

As his tongue plunged into her mouth, his squeezing hand slid down from her breasts, along her corset, over her waist and onto her drawers. The involuntary sigh she gave as he found and rubbed her pubic mound made his cock twitch, and he brought more groans from the captive woman by pushing his hand between her legs and stroking right along the lips of her delightful pussy. 

The heat and wetness was welcomingly evident, even through the material!

"Remove your drawers, Amanda, I want to see you. All of you." he growled, making no effort whatsoever to remove them himself. Even at this stage, he wanted the control that obedience brought. 

For a moment, Amanda panicked. Was she really going to do this? How the hell had she got herself into this position? What would happen if she refused? Would he take her by force? As her eyes surreptitiously ran across the overweight, ageing, flabby body, the greying bodily hair and the short, but thick, erect cock of the man who was going to fuck her, she suddenly felt revulsion. 

Momentarily forgetting her need to sell the plantation, the slavery issue and the impending civil war between the states, she wondered if she could really go through with it?

"Stand up, and turn round." Strand ordered, sensing the hesitation in the mixed up woman. "Do it" he said sharply.

For a few seconds, their wills battled. In reality, though, both knew the inevitable outcome. Amanda timidly rose to her feet, the previous excitement being replaced by a feeling of resignation. Her hands shook as she slowly pushed her drawers down revealing the full glory of her slightly oversized, but extremely tempting buttocks, her full bush of deep rust coloured pubic hairs and the bloated lips of her engorged pussy.

Strand gasped in delight as his arousal soared to new heights. He resolved there and then, not only to carry out his previous thoughts of spanking those wonderful cheeks sometime soon, but he'd go further. The thought of rubbing his cock between those delicious orbs, before taking and fucking the wonderful arse, sent flashes of arousal from his brain to his cock. And the more she resisted, the harder he would fuck her.

Amanda stared at Strand's overweight body as she turned back to him. Then she saw the look in his eyes. Sheer unbridled, animal-like lust that was transmitted to her. From nowhere, she felt her own excitement return. He was about to take her, make her feel like the slut her inner mind told her he was. This podgy bastard was about to devour her body. He needed her, and her submissive mind told her she needed him too. 

She needed to be fucked, to be devoured, abused and yes, humiliated. 

Strand's eyes burned as they basked in the erotic sight of this woman facing him. Wearing just her black stockings, held up by pink garters and her corset, she looked like the Queen of whores. She was about to submit to him, for what he was certain would be, the first of many times he intended to consume this voluptuous body. With a growl, he grabbed her arm and pushed her down on the bed, his overweight body quickly covering her. 

He grabbed her hair, pulling her face to his as he rubbed himself along her wetness. His lips went to her breasts, lapping at one and then the other, softly biting her nipples. Then they were back on hers, greedily consuming her as his eager tongue explored inside her mouth.

Amanda couldn't help letting out a soft groan. The obnoxious bastard knew exactly what he was doing!

Yes she was about to be taken. Not entirely against her will, but the main reason she was here was her promise to Fairfax. Certainly the possibility of Strand helping her sell the plantation had started her liaison with Lieutenant Governor, but that had diminished when she had realised the limitations on the extent of his influence and the strength of the new laws. Naturally she hoped to gain the highest possible price for Selby, but again the need for that had reduced when in New York she had realised just how much her wealth had increased in the last year or so. Things had been put into perspective for her at a financial attorney's office in New York when he told her that the house in Piccadilly in London was probably worth at least that of Selby, particularly, as the attorney rather indelicately, but probably realistically had put it. 'Piccadilly is unlikely to be a war zone or burned down!'

She was about to be fucked by another man because the one she loved had without compunction asked her. True it was all wrapped up in the greater good of the country, but deep down Amanda knew she was not spying for the Union, but for the head of its Military Intelligence, General Fairfax Lennon. Well, she would help Fairfax by doing this, but by God, she'd make sure she enjoyed every second!

"Want my cock?" Strand was whispering even as he lined himself up.

Yes, fuck, YES! Amanda's mind screamed, but she turned her head to the side, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

If she thought she'd escape that easily, she was wrong. This was Strand's ultimate humiliation for the night. His way of reinforcing the huge surge of control he so desired. This woman would beg him for it!

"Well?" he asked, easing just the very head between her wet lips. "Tell me!" he gasped, his hot breath against her skin. "Do you want my cock?"

One hand jerked her head around so that he could stare into her eyes. Her hips moved so that she could take more of him inside, but he held back, adjusting his position to keep the head inside her but no more.

His eyes asked the question again, there was no need for him to speak.

"Yes," she gasped, groaning aloud as he slid more of his so desirable hardened flesh between her opened lips. "Yes, Oliver, Yes. Fuck me, please fuck me!"

She hated herself for both asking that and for pleading with him, but she could not stop herself, her resistance had gone, she had no other options than to plead with this odious, yet oddly captivating man to take her.

The overweight man felt an astonishing burst of adrenalin consume him at her surrender. He'd wanted this woman for so long and now, not only had the moment come, but the bitch was begging him for it.

Without further ado, he pushed himself all the way inside her. He moaned at the stirring feeling of her velvet-like insides gripping his cock so wonderfully firmly for a woman of her age; 'her cunt' he thought 'was more like those of the young women who were arranged specially for him at his favoured brothels than of a married woman of her age.' He took her slowly at first, savouring every moment, every sound, every groan, every undulation of her voluptuous body as she abandoned herself to him.

My God, what a fantastic fuck this woman was turning out to be!

As Strand's cock surged up her, Amanda gasped. Nearly every cock that had ever surged up her had felt good, but for some inexplicable reason Strand's felt frustratingly incredible. Amanda ground her hips upwards. Her eyes were tightly shut for the physical reality of just what was fucking her reduced the amazing sensations. She might have smiled had she not been so aroused when she thought 'What the eye doesn't see the heart, but in her case mind, doesn't grieve over.' He was pounding her harder and harder and faster and faster. She raised her legs to curl them along his sides. To increase the sensations and deepen his penetration of her even more, she crossed them behind his back and linked her ankles across the top of his podgy ass to gain more leverage. It really was for her a stupendous fuck, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

Strand could hardly believe the way that Amanda was performing. He had rarely had any woman, particularly one he was fucking for the first time and especially one as noble as Amanda, respond the way she was. Although he was surprised his vanity put it down to his fine sexual technique and that in turn seemed to get the best from him.

She climaxed quite quickly, but then when Strand hardly broke the rhythm of his deep thrusts she was amazed to find herself her climax starting again. That just never happened to her. In the past she had always needed to recover slowly from a climax and rest for a while before the orgasmic sensations started again. None of the handsome, even beautiful men who had made love to her made her cum like this. Yet this overweight, odious, sweaty, arrogant bastard was still fucking her and still making her cum. Her groans grew longer and louder, with each downward thrust as she abandoned herself to the wild and uninhibited onslaught. In her wildest dreams, she'd never expected it to be anything like this!

On the carriage ride back to her lodgings Amanda had a mixture of feelings. She felt awfully used, yet sexually satisfied. She felt abused, demeaned and humiliated, but also disappointed and disgusted yet uplifted and fulfilled. Mostly though, she felt confused. She was confused at her reaction, confused about Strand arousing her so much and about her response to the bastard, confused about Fairfax, confused as to her role with Strand and as a spy for the North. 

As the carriage made its way slowly through the almost deserted streets of the Capital her thoughts became more focused on the men in her life. Smiling she recognised that she had always had problems with men.

Her husband Samuel had left her for another woman, Bernard D'argent her older lover seemed to prefer travelling the world to fucking her and Fairfax, well he had always been a problem. She had started thinking of him as the man she loved, the man she could spend the rest of her life with, but now she was seeong him in a different light and that posed some awkward questions for her. How could he ask her to spy for him? How dare he try to persuade to surrender her body to another man? That he wanted her to have sex with any man to gain information was insulting, but with the married Deputy Lieutenant Governor of Georgia it was despicable. It brought into question his feelings for her, both those concerning respect and his love for her. Yes, she was practically single, but didn't Fairfax love her the way she did him? Sending her to Strand with such ulterior motives was morally and romantically so wrong!

Secondly, she felt used by Strand. He had dominated her, controlled her and fucked her like he would a slut or a whore. In some ways, she felt disgusted and shameful at what she had done, and what she had allowed the overweight man to do to her. She had given herself completely to the aggressive Strand and she had revelled like a bitch in heat in the way that he had used her, taken her and fucked her.




Savannah 05



A major problem was that she had never experienced such a wanton thrill before. The way he had turned from trying to seduce her in the way that most men do, to almost leaping on her and tearing her clothes off, was so confusingly arousing. There was no consideration for what Amanda might desire. Just a need for the lustful man to establish his dominance, just as if he was branding a steer!

Then there was the way he fucked her. It was with such a lack of any inhibitions that he literally did take her breath away. He'd made her cum three times before reaching his own orgasm. And when she'd pleaded with him not to cum inside her, the triumphant way he'd pulled out at the last moment and fired his creamy seed over her belly and tits was so demeaning, but intensely thrilling.

My God, she could almost climax again just at the recollection! What was happening to her?

She had to acknowledge that she had enjoyed eating dinner clad just in her underwear with her breasts bare to his gaze. She had found pleasure in being dominated, abused and demeaned and she had found such excitement at being taken with all the ferocity of an animal! Most of all she had to acknowledge just how confusing her life had become.

Reaching her lodgings, there was some relief when she saw that Fairfax's carriage was not in the courtyard. She would not have been able face him so quickly after what her body, and her mind, had just experienced and with the confusion about her feelings for him roaring round her mind?

Safely inside, and still feeling aroused with all those thoughts whirling around her head, Milly helped her undress. Even the inadvertent touch of her maid's fingers on her naked flesh made her tingle. She noticed Milly giving her a strange look, then realised she would have noticed she'd worn her corset without either a chemmy or camisole. 

The knock on the door interrupted her blushes. Oh no! Surely it wasn't Fairfax? Not now! How could she face him? Her heart pounding, she turned to her maid. "You answer it Milly, let me put on a night robe." 

"Will that suffice ma'am, if you have a gentleman caller? Milly asked, her eyes indicating her shock at such a suggestion.

Smiling at the girl's naivety, but loving the caring attitude towards her, Amanda gently insisted, "Don't you worry about that Milly, I will be fine. You just go and let the General in, and put a jug of wine, some fruit and cheese in the rear sitting room, please."

When Milly left, Amanda panicked. What could she say? How could she make love to him after what she'd just experienced? He'd see the fierce red marks and scratches where Strand's overly enthusiastic caresses had marked her breasts, thighs and buttocks. He'd see the look in her eyes and would feel the tension in her body. He was not an intelligence officer without reason.

Fate came to her rescue. 

"I am sorry ma'am," Milly said, as she returned to Amanda's boudoir. "It was not the General, but a messenger." 

She handed the small envelope to her mistress. 

"Thank you Milly," Amanda replied, unable to stop the shudder of relief as it passed through her. She quickly tore open the envelope, to read a message from Strand. 

You were wonderful tonight, my dear Amanda. I promise the next time will be even better. I can hardly wait!

Oh God!! Where the hell was all this taking her?

***

Feeling a little dull after the ten hour journey Fairfax was met at the station by a military carriage that was his for the day. It transported him to an office near Wall Street.

"How much?" The merchant asked him.

"As much as won't raise suspicion and do it every other day until I advise you to stop."

"Are you sure?"

"That's for me to know and you to do as you are told" Fairfax said sternly as he stood up indicating and end to the meeting. "I bid you good day sir and let me know by telegraph how things proceed."

"Yes of course Mister Coleman" the merchant said as Fairfax left his office and walked the two blocks to where he had alighted from the carriage.

Sitting in the closed carriage as it transported him the few blocks to his next meeting he was feeling pleased with himself. If all went to plan with his short selling scheme he would make well in excess of a million dollars during the rest of the slump. It was of course predicated on the price of cotton falling so that he could buy huge amounts in the future at the reduced price and sell them at the slightly lower price than the five dollars a pound at which it was currently trading. 

'Misters Coleman, Carruthers, Carter, Clark and Carrick' had made similar arrangement with merchants in the Wall Street area. Fairfax met with each of them during the course of morning! 

It was after lunch time when he reached his next destination. The carriage ride up and across Manhattan had been long and tedious as they travelled north westward towards the Hudson River. Once on the wider and smoother Bloomingdale Road the two horse carriage made a faster speed and they reached the large brownstone farm house overlooking the river in Hollow Way at just after two o'clock.

He was warmly greeted by the five men he had invited to the house that his father had built a few years previous just before his death. It was one of numerous properties that he had inherited. This one, Union Farm, was occupied by his mistress who often played hostess to dinner parties that Fairfax organised. She also arranged meetings, lunches, dinner parties and sometimes near orgies for Fairfax and his business colleagues. Having agreed the menu with cook and laid out copious amounts of wine, beer, port and brandy, Charlotte Fielding had retired to her quarters on the top floor bolting the door behind her just in case. She knew that after the meeting had finished Fairfax would come to her and they would have sex.

When Lennon was scheduled to travel on the early six am train from Washington he had instructed Charlotte to arrange the meeting for dinner, but after Amanda's change of plans he managed to contact by telegram all but two of the group and told her to change it to the earlier lunch time meeting. This, they both greedily acknowledged would then allow him the whole evening and night with Charlotte before taking a morning train back to the capital.

The six of them ate heartily on oxtail soup, fresh trout, mutton stew, mixed fruits and cheese washed down by white and red wines.

These men were an unelected and unrecognised by any authority body which had two purposes: freeing the north of the old fashioned, restraining influences of the South and making as much money for the city and themselves as possible. Simple, straightforward and to them at least very noble aims. 

As the port and brandy were passed round the table and pipes and cigars were lit the conversation moved onto the main issues at hand.

"Just not enough of the commercial sector will support action against the Southern bastards" John Astor the relatively youthful at thirty eight financier and Brigadier General in the army growled."

"Well to an extent you can understand some of their reasoning" Hamilton Fish the fifty year old ex-Governor of and then Senator for the State replied. 

"And that is?" Astor probed.

Benjamin Isherwood the handsome young naval engineer chimed in. "Well for one fucking reason they are scared of losing trade through New York. If the South put an embargo on cotton coming north and New Orleans lowers it tariffs we're fucked as a port. They all know that." 

"Now now Ben, keep calm" Thomas Devin chipped in.

"How can I keep calm when everywhere I look I see some silly bastard fucking something up?"

"True and I do understand" Devin, the dashing thirty seven-year-old head of the cavalry said quietly. "But we need to think and plan that's why we are here not to blow off steam."

"We also need to find ways to reassure the merchants and shippers that should the worst happen and more States elect for secession that they will get paid" Fish advised.

"Why do you think they wouldn't pay?" Devin asked.

"It's conceivable" Astor said calmly.

"How much would be lost?"

"At the last count just over two hundred million" Astor advised the listening group.

"My fucking lord that much?" Isherwood exploded. "We really are between a rock and a hard place aren't we?"

"Yes Benjamin we are" Richard Delafield who was in overall charge of New York harbour defences and an expert on war having visited the Crimea and England said. "If we do nothing the South's slothful ways and old fashioned practices will stop us developing and if we oppose them they can harm us very much."

Looking at Lennon, Hamilton Fish said quietly. "Well General I guess this is where you come in isn't it for clearly to get ahead of the game we need better and more intelligence don't we?"

"Yes sir" Fairfax stood up and moved across the room near to the window. "We are collecting masses of information, but getting close to the leaders in the South and finding out what is really going on is proving very difficult."

"There must be something we can do to get close to some of those, what do they call themselves fire blowers?" Isherwood asked sounding rather drunk.

"Eaters" Lennon said.

"What?"

"They call themselves Fire-Eaters."

"Oh right yeah that's it I knew it was fire fucking something."

They all laughed.

"Just the stupid sort of name that bunch of cretins would call themselves isn't it?" Devin suggested.

"Stupid the name may be, but do not underestimate them" Lennon advised. "They are well-organised and funded, have extremely clear aims, are very difficult to infiltrate and they are completely ruthless."

"Hmmm so what do we do? Are they key to us getting ahead of the South?" Astor the phenomenally rich financier and soldier asked. "Would bribery help? If it's a case of funding......................." his voice tailed off.

"No John it's not that, we have the funds and you have been more than generous, it's simply getting close to them isn't Fairfax?" Delafield who was an expert on both military and intelligence asked."

"Yes Thomas it is and with some luck and a fair wind we may well have just done that" the General said looking at his watch and wondering what Amanda was doing.

"How is that?" Devin asked.

"Well we have a lady who is er, um close to Oliver Strand" Lennon said slowly.

"What that Lieutenant Governor of which fucking State is it?" Isherwood slurred.

"Georgia" Astor told him. "And he's the Deputy not the Lieutenant Governor."

"How close Lennon?" Fish asked.

"Very sir, in fact she may well have slept with him last night.

"Why would she sleep with that fat pig?" 

"She has something to sell that he can help her sell, or so he says."

"I assume you mean Missus Williams don't you General?" Delafield asked. "I know her. I met her when I visited England in fifty five. She is a bounteous filly make no mistake."

"She's the La Salle daughter isn't she that married Samuel Williams and moved to England?" Astor chimed in. "I met her at Harvard with you didn't I Lennon, wasn't her brother there?"

"Yes that's right" Lennon replied feeling a little uncomfortable that Amanda's cover had been blown amongst the group, although their allegiance to the group and the cause was total.

"I know who you mean now" Isherwood interrupted. "I met at her some do in Washington earlier this year. Fuck she's delicious."

"Maybe we could all er, sample our spy" Devin laughed.

Apart from Lennon and Astor who was tea total, they were all now fairly drunk.

"Why not, God she has tits like melons if I recall" Isherwood slurred. "And the fucking things were nearly leaping out of her dress, she was wearing one of those French necklines."

"What where they nearly flash their nipples?" Devin asked. "I saw a load of them at a function at the French embassy, I was rock hard all evening."

"Not nearly" the older Hamilton Fish said, smiling as he added. "Particularly if you are tall and can look down on a lady's bosom."

As they all swigged more wine and sipped more port and brandy so they became more bawdy, loud and vulgar with Fairfax now joining in too.

"So you get an eyeful then Fishy at your height?"

"You must see more nipples and areola than you have hot dinners."

"Actually I remember her very well from London" Dellafield told the group.

"What did you get to sample the luscious Missus Williams?" Devin asked

"Er unfortunately not, but it was rumoured that along with most women in Sam's group she was, how shall I put it, easy with her favours."

"What she got her drawers off easy you mean?" Isherwood asked beginning to feel quite excited.

"Well I did hear that she had a long-term lover, you may know him Ham."

"Who is it?"

"Bernard d'Argent."

"Bejesus Dicky he's older than me."

"Gives us all a chance then gentlemen, how about it Fairfax?" Isherwood asked.

"What?"

"Bringing her to the next meeting and getting her to deliver her report in person. Tell us what Strand told her."

Lennon smiled. "Next you'll want her to tell us what she had to let Strand do to her to sell her plantation."

"Well now you mention it that sounds a good idea."

"Even better if she tells us that with her tits out" Isherwood suggested.

Dellafield who had one of the brightest minds in the army and was a tactical expert with an extremely logical way of thinking asked.

"So Lennon pray tell us how you have come into possession of this information about Missus Williams."

Fairfax saw the warning signals.

"I am afraid sir, that is classified information."

"General, may I remind you that between us in this group there is no such thing as classified."

Astor, the main financier of the group and its covert activities was every bit the manipulator that Fairfax was. He also had a good memory.

"I see it now" he said. Although he spoke quietly he immediately gained the others attention even Isherwood's who was known for his 'don't give a damn' attitude.

"See what?" Lennon said hopefully sounding more relaxed than he felt.

"Weren't you and Missus Williams er 'friendly' when her brother was at Harvard with you."

"So that's it" Devin joined in. "You're fucking her, you luck bastard."

They all chuckled as the conversation moved on to other topics. Astor and Dellafield took Lennon to one side.

"Is that true Lennon?"

"Yes sir it is" he replied to Astor's question.

"God you really a hard hearted bastard aren't you?" Dellafield muttered.

*

The next day Amanda felt awful. She was emotionally drained, she was full of guilt and remorse, her body ached and her vagina was very sore indeed. What she had done the previous evening with Strand appalled her.

Her life was changing so much. Her husband had left her, her father had died, she had moved back to America and now she was becoming a spy. On top of that she'd had a wonderful shipboard romance with Richard Jarvis, she was rekindling her long term love affair with Fairfax Lennon, and had come very close to letting her brother restart what had happened so long ago. 

And now, she had let the most important man in the state of Georgia have sex with her.

She could justify most of that in her mind, but some aspects of her recent behaviour puzzled her. She could not understand how she had, so easily it seemed, let Oliver dominate her and control their sex so strongly. It had never happened before and she had no idea why it had happened tonight. In many ways the aspect of the evening that most concerned and worried her was the excitement and sheer animalistic pleasure she had derived from what they had done together.

Amanda had always been something of a hedonist. A great deal of her life with Samuel had been devoted to seeking pleasure in one form or the other. She also admired beauty and style. She could not remember feeling anything for a man who wasn't attractive and handsome and didn't have at least a reasonable physique; Strand met none of those criteria and that made the mystery of why she had given herself so fully to him all the deeper.

And she had given herself so fully to him. She had become so absorbed in their sex that it hadn't occurred to her to try to get any information from him before they had gone to bed. It wasn't until she was lying beside him on her front and he was stroking her buttocks making little sighing sounds that she remembered.

"Mmmmm, that's nice" she whispered, telling him the absolute truth for she did have a very sensitive ass.

"You have a gorgeous ass Amanda."

"Thank you Oliver," she breathed.

"And one of these days I am going to make complete and utter love to it" he advised her sending a surge of fear through her. Whilst it was sensitive and she enjoyed a modest amount of anal fun, she wasn't comfortable with full anal penetration.

"Where do you think this is all going to lead Oliver?" Amanda asked, turning her head and looking at the repulsively attractive man.

"This?" he said with a leering smile as he slid his finger into the crease of her bottom and pressed right on the hole.

Amanda managed a smile and wiggled her hips a bit as she said. "No Oliver, I can guess where that will end. I meant the problems."

"Let's have a drink and we can chat a bit," he replied squeezing the full cheek of Amanda's bum.

Without being asked, Amanda got up and got the champagne. She poured them both a glass, got back into bed and snuggled up to Strand who slid his arm round her shoulders and dangled his fingers down her chest so they just touched the top of her breasts. Other than the fact that she half hated the evil, conniving bastard who had just dominated, abused and then fucked her, it was a tender and loving scene.

"So?" she asked, resting her fingers on his upper thigh, knowing full well the effect it would have in him. It did, Strand started to get aroused again even though experience told him it would be ages before he would be fully hard and that it was unlikely that he would be able to cum again that night.

"Well my dear," he started to pontificate. There was nothing he liked more than talking and having the rapt attention of an audience, particularly a female and especially a naked one as attractive and sexy as Amanda. "For a start it is very serious indeed. The fucking Yankees and us are like two locomotives or herds of buffalos hurtling towards each other completely out of control. I can't think of a way of stopping either; our views are just too diametrically opposed."

"On the labour issue?"

"Well yes, but it's more, much, much more than just the stupid, fucking slaves."

"What is it then?"

Strand droaned on for some time about free trade and how that would ruin the South and particularly the cotton industry. Squeezing her breast he muttered.

"So you see madam, if we do not resist the Northern madmen, our whole way of life will change, we will be completely dominated by them and the cotton industry will be ruined. Along with it of course, Selby Bluff will become virtually worthless."

"Oh no," she groaned.

"I'm afraid so and that's why we have to fight them."

"You mean war? Civil war?"

"If necessary yes, but they will, back down from that, I mean with the other things at our disposal."

"Such as?"

"Well, have you heard about Secession?"

"Yes I have read about it."

"If Lincoln becomes President then we will press the button. It's all arranged."

"And then what will happen?"

"We'll set up a separate government of the Confederacy, its nearly organised now."

"That's amazing Oliver," she cooed running her fingers up the inside of his thigh.

He was surprised at himself for as the side of Amanda's hand touched his rather large and unattractively hairy balls he felt himself hardening; 'Surely not this soon' he thought a little worried about trying to perform again just an hour or so after cumming. That was rare for him and would be quite an achievement.




Savannah 06



"Mister La Salle" a voice called from over Adam's shoulder.

Turning, he recognised Jayne Essington, a friend of Amanda's. "Good morning Missus Essington" he said taking her hand, bowing and kissing it. "How lovely to see you. What brings you to Boston?"

"I am here for my nephew's graduation" the plumpish but nevertheless quite attractive, black haired widow informed him, leaving her hand in Adam's.

"From Harvard?"

"No Boston University. He wanted to study agriculture and Harvard didn't offer such a course" she replied. 

"Has it opened yet, I had heard it was being planned?"

"Well its not officially a university yet" Jayne flustered, mentally kicking herself for trying to show off.

"Oh" Adam said politely.

"It's the agricultural college that will become the university in the next year or so if the recession lifts" she went on giving Adam the phrases the college had given to her. He wants to be a modern farmer and none of the major colleges offered anything in those subjects. Whilst Jayne was confirming the modern trend of 'secondary' colleges and universities offering more practical studies, she was also but clearly telling Adam that the family couldn't afford Harvard. That reminded him how Amanda had always said that Jayne was a snob and a social climber.

"And when does that take place, may I ask?"

"The graduation? Not for a few days."

"So until then?"

"I have no plans, I have time on my hands" she said.

Whilst Adam didn't know Jayne well, he knew that she and Amanda had been at school together and as young ladies had been fairly close friends. That had waned when Amanda moved to the North, then on to Europe and had, until very recently remained dormant, although the two similarly aged women had maintained a correspondence relationship. He knew that they had met a few times since Amanda's return to Meldrim and the Bluff and recently he had been at a ball with his estranged sister and the widow Essington. They had got on quite well and had indulged in some mild flirting.

He had always had a penchant for her. He found her hugely sexy and for years they had flirted, both thinking, but not confiding in the other that in other circumstance after Hugo, her husband had been killed in a railroad accident that something might happen. The circumstances that might have made it possible had not however happened. 'Until now' Adam was thinking to himself.

"So Adam, what, pray, brings you to Boston?"

"Oh this and that, a little business, some old friends and some new ones" he quipped. "Amanda and I are on a trip."

"Is your adorable sister here?"

"No she's in Washington or maybe New York, I don't know."

"Don't know?" Jayne asked fluttering her eyelids. "Pray why not?"

"Sorry, I should not have said that, but as you know only too well Missus... er Jayne, Amanda is difficult to keep up with."

She laughed. "Yes I have spent most of my life trying to do that."

Jayne had been sitting in the lobby of the Tremont Hotel that was reputed to be the first luxury hotel in the country, certainly it was in Boston opening some fifty years ago. "May I get you something, tea, coffee or a juice perhaps?"

"No thank you Adam, I am meeting my attorney who is late, infuriatingly so I might add."

"All I can say Jayne is that I consider his tardiness to be fortunate."

"Fortunate, Mister La Salle?" she asked raising her eyebrows and turning her head enjoying the flattery

"Yes, for otherwise we may not have met."

She threw her head back and laughed, her small, mostly uncovered bosom jiggling delightfully. "But we have met so many times Adam," she replied quietly.

"But not in such circumstances, madam."

"Such circumstances as what may I ask sir?" she said, holding his gaze.

"Well... away from Georgia, in Boston, by ourselves and with time on our hands."

"Are you not busy then Adam?"

"No not for a few days until I go down to Washington or New York."

"I see, that's er... nice."

"Yes I think so," Adam said their gazes again lingering.

"I do too sir, if I may be so bold to tell you."

"Oh yes madam, you may well be so bold and I thank you for that."

"Thank you too sir, I am indeed flattered you say such a thing" she went on carefully using her fan to shield her eyes from his.

"Not at all ma'am. Perhaps we could continue the conversation over dinner, maybe this evening?"

Adam knew he was chancing his arm. It was unusual for a man, albeit a single one, to ask a lady, albeit a widow, in person to dinner; etiquette required a written invitation. It was even more unusual to present any invitation with such short notice for that implied that both parties had a limited diary. Jayne Essington was as acutely aware of these social conventions as she knew Adam was and she knew that she should respectfully decline. But as he had conveniently pointed out they were away from home and they were in Boston. What had gone unsaid, but was clearly implied was that they were both single and that they had the time, the place and the opportunity if they were so inclined. They both knew that no one was checking on them, they were both clearly attracted to each other and it was dawning on them, they both probably were 'so inclined.'

Before she could answer, a stunningly good looking young man came into the lobby. He was tall and slim with a full head of long, dark wavy hair that he wore in a fashionable, to Boston and New York, unkempt style. He was clean shaven and was wearing a deep burgundy coloured coat and pale grey, very tight trousers with a black, silk waistcoat. He cut a handsome figure as he strode purposefully across the marble floor of the huge lobby seemingly oblivious to the stares of envy from the men and admiration, verging on lust from the women.

"Oh Adam," Jayne said, turning towards the man. "May I introduce you to William Ableforce, my nephew? William, this is a very old friend of mine from Georgia, Mister Adam La Salle."

The two men held hands and each other's gazes slightly longer than maybe they should.

"Very pleased to meet you Mister Ableforce."

"Enchantee Mister La Salle," the young man said, with a Boston accent

"I'm not French," Adam smiled.

"And I don't speak it really," William laughed.

"Call me Adam, please."

"Of course, and I am William" the beaming smile and the locked gaze the young man gave him sent heat rushing to his loins. It had been some time since Adam had been with any man other than a male whore.

"Adam has just invited us to dinner," Jayne said with a mischievous smile. "Oh sorry sir, your invitation was to both of us, wasn't it?" 

"Yes of course" Adam lied, half disappointed that he would not be getting her to himself, but half elated that he would spend more time with William.

"Ah aunt I have a confession."

"Pray what is that William?"

"I have an appointment this evening."

Adam liked hearing that for it meant he would have Jayne to himself.

"I have agreed to play chemin de fer at nine this evening."

"Ah such a shame, but perhaps dinner with us first?"

"I would be honoured Aunt, Adam." 

"Until dinner then" the young man said. Holding Adam's gaze he placed his hands on Jayne's shoulder and kissed her on both cheeks. Watching them Adam couldn't help wondering whether it was rather too lingering a kiss for a nephew and an aunt? Moving away from Jayne he bowed slightly and said. "I am afraid I have to go I am meeting some fellow graduates to work on our speeches, very nice to meet you Mister La Salle and I look forward to dinner."

The older man and woman watched the youngster amble confidently across the lobby before Adam spoke again. "A very amenable young man" he said, looking at Jayne who appeared to be blushing. "It should be an enjoyable evening. Where would you like to dine?"

"Well we are staying here at the Tremont so perhaps here?"

"That would be wonderful."

"We have a suite. That might be more convenient than a restaurant?"

Adam nodded, wondering why she had suggested her hotel, or included William, for that matter. Not that he intended protesting. "Until this evening then, madam, say seven o'clock?"

"Yes Adam, that would be favourable, but please sir may I ask for your discretion."

"Of course, I am a Southern gentleman at heart," he smiled.

"As I am naturally a Southern Belle," Jayne laughed back.

"And the discretion madam? In which direction is that."

"In all directions, sir."

His eyebrows curved in confusion at the flirtatious, attractive and very sexy woman. "Pray madam, why the need for such discretion? We are both free and unencumbered are we not?"

"I have my reasons, Adam."

"May I ask if they are they for sharing?"

"I would not wish for my friend, your sister to learn about us meeting here."

They were silent for a few moments. "Is it me Jayne? Is it that you need discretion because of me?"

"No not at all, but I have a reputation to preserve. I do not wish to be seen as a merry widow."

"Ah" Adam smiled adding with a glint in his eyes "Are you, Jayne?"

With an equally beguiling smile and eye twinkle she replied. "Well Mister La Salle, that is not the type of question I am accustomed to and I must advise it is for me to know and you to find out, isn't it?"

"Yes true and I had hoped to do that at dinner with you alone this evening. Does William need to be there?"

"That is part of the discretion. I would also not wish for Amanda to know about William."

"How is that? He is your nephew isn't he?"

"He is not blood Mister La Salle," she explained, staring deep into his eyes before being distracted by a black coated aging gentleman with mutton chop whiskers. "Ah Mister Quelch, at last." 

*

Adam quickly concluded his business in a private room of the hotel and went back through the lobby hoping that Jayne might be there or, as appealingly, William. Neither were. He took a cab to his quarters in Harvard, which the university provided free of charge to their alumni benefactors. Although they were rather Spartan, they brought back such wonderful memories that he always stayed there when visiting Boston.

He lunched in the post graduate restaurant, meeting a number of people he had known for years. As usual that resulted in rather too much wine and port and so he spent the latter part of the afternoon slumbering in his small room.

Waking rather later than he had anticipated, he had to rush his preparation before calling a carriage. Trundling along Massachusetts Avenue, across the bridge and turning left onto Storrow Street with the Charles River on his left, before reaching the Common, his head was a whirl of thought, hopes and considerations. Although he probably should have been thinking more about the sale of the plantation or, even more importantly his generally disastrous business ventures, his thoughts could not extend beyond Jayne, William and the forthcoming dinner with them. 

He was thinking specifically about how he could get one of them into bed, but kept reaching a blockage that revolved around Jayne's parting phrase this morning. 'He is not blood.' What could that mean and why was she so concerned for discretion especially with his sister who was an old friend? 

He still had no answer when he arrived at the hotel.

He advised the flunky at reception that he had an appointment with Missus Essington and Mister Ableforce and was asked to wait as a page went to the suite and returned, advising Adam to follow him.

"Good evening Mister La Salle," Jayne said, after she opened the door to the suite. "Thank you Morgan," she said to the page, who beamed adoringly at her as Adam gave him a quarter.

He was surprised, but hugely pleased that she was wearing a fashionably, almost European level of low cut dress. It had a blue top and pale yellow skirt with blue piping that was not hooped as was the norm. When in large company, the voluminous hooped dresses were de rigueur, but often nowadays America ladies were taking to dispensing with the frame under the skirt that produced the huge skirt. The practicalities of moving around, sitting down and generally being in modest sized rooms were beginning to win the battle with convention and etiquette. 

She looked fantastic. 

As she was wearing a French cut dress which had yellow lace round the low neckline most of her chest almost to the edge of her areolae were on view and although her breasts were modest her cleavage was spectacular; he couldn't help thinking of his sister's breasts as he stared at Jayne's. She had arranged her black hair so that it was bunched at the back and had numerous curls and tresses tumbling down onto her bare shoulders the darkness of her hair contrasting wonderfully with the paleness of her Southern Belle flesh. Taking her hand and bowing deeply he kissed her and muttered. 

"You look wonderful Missus Essington."

"Thank you kind sir," she replied very aware that the focus of Adam's attention was her bosom. As Adam straightened up still holding her hand neither moved. They looked into each other eyes and both could see the desire.

"You are most welcome, ma'am," Adam replied as Jayne slowly and reluctantly removed her hand from his.

"I have ordered dinner for seven thirty if that is agreeable to you?"

"Of course it is Jayne. Where's William?"

"I don't know, but he is often late."

"My lucky day then," he smiled, accepting the glass of red wine.

"Lucky Adam?" she said, looking across the rim of her glass.

"To have the opportunity madam, to be alone with you."

"Thank you sir, but then by that measure maybe it is my lucky day as well?"

"Do you think that Jayne?" Adam asked, his hopes rising.

"Indeed I do sir, indeed I do."

"Well that makes everything nice and dandy Jayne, that we both feel the same," Adam said standing up from the high backed chair and moving over to sit beside her on the long low chaise.

"Yes Adam," she said as he took her hand.

"What time do you expect William?" he asked, wondering if there was any chance of some form of sex with Jayne before her nephew arrived. The situation was hopeful.

Jayne diplomatically pulled her hand away. "Adam there is something you need to know."

"And what may that be Jayne?"

"I told you earlier, that he is not blood didn't I?"

"Yes Jayne, yes you did."

"I also told you that William needed to be part of your discretion didn't I?"

"Yes."

"And have you noticed that this is a one bedroom suite Adam?"

It hit him like a thunderbolt. William was Jayne's lover. She was a forty something woman and he a twenty four year old man. He had heard of older women taking younger lovers and when at Harvard he had been one of the younger male lovers who enjoyed the pleasures of more mature women. But it hadn't entered his mind that he was in competition with William. 

"I see, madam. You can rely on my discretion," he said, feeling and sounding disappointed.

There was an atmosphere between them as they chatted politely, waiting for the staff to serve dinner. Adam felt let down and Jayne apprehensive of what she had planned for later in the evening. It wasn't too long before William arrived, just as the waiting staff was setting up the dinner.

The three of them chatted in a reserved way at first, but as they drank the white then red wine they loosened up and the conversation became more animated. The dinner was oysters followed by a choice of pumpkin soup or a beef consommé, a fillet of red mullet, a very rare rib of beef with potatoes and beans then salad followed by cheese, a chocolate cake and coffee and brandy.

"Jayne, thank you that was a wonderful dinner," Adam said, breathing in and wishing he had not worn the trousers he had bought in Paris two years ago before he'd put on a few pounds.

"You are most welcome, Adam."

They were sitting at a small round table. As the waiting staff were extremely attentive and cleared plates and other used crockery very quickly, the table generally had only the diner's three plates and the condiments, salt, black pepper, brown pickle, red cabbage and mustard on it. It was now dark outside and several lamps and candles had been lit in the room, providing the suite with a flittering, dim and romantic atmosphere.

"Gentlemen," Jayne said standing up. Adam and William also stood as she continued "Please enjoy your port." 

With that, she glided across the room and vanished through the floor to ceiling double doors presumably, into the bedroom. The waiting staff produced a carafe of port, a basket of fruit and a large portion of cheese and then cleared everything else away.

William and Adam looked at each other not saying much for a while as Adam lit a cigar and William a pipe. They chatted for a while about William's studies and impending graduation and then about the worsening economic situation. Inevitably the question of the tension between the North and South came up and both of them agreed that some military action seemed more and more likely.

"William, may I be bold and ask you a personal question or two?" Adam eventually asked as the two handsome men, both of whom had deep set, moody eyes smiled at one another.

"Please feel free to do so Adam" William replied wondering where this might lead.

"Jayne advised me that you are her nephew."

"Yes that is correct."

"Yet she also advised that you were not blood."

"That is also correct."

"Hmmmm," Adam mused, sipping his port and feeling even more confused. But before he could take it further, one of the floor-to-ceiling double doors leading to the bedroom opened, not fully, but just half way. Adam expected Jayne to emerge through the doorway, but instead he just heard her voice. "Gentlemen, I await your pleasure."

Adam raised his eyebrows at William who immediately stood up.

"I think she wants us both to wait upon her. Come Adam."

Now more confused than ever, but equally hugely excited at the prospect of visiting Jayne in her boudoir, albeit with her 'nephew' in attendance, he followed the younger man across the sitting room and into the bedroom.

"Welcome" Jayne said.

The only light in the room came from a single candle on a table by the French windows and what shone in through the half closed doorway. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he saw that Jayne was sitting on the edge of the high, wide bed. She had let her hair down so the black tresses tumbled onto and over her nearly bare shoulders for, amazingly and utterly surprisingly she was wearing just a white, broderie Anglais sleeveless nightdress. 

Staring with incredulity, he made out the narrow straps of lace over her shoulders, her bare arms the low cut neck, the buttons from the neckline to her waist, the top one of which was rakishly open, the hem of the nightdress daringly only just covering her knees and her white stocking covered legs with no shoes.

"My pleasure madam" Adam stammered, feeling himself hardening.

"And mine Jayne" William added.

They were silent for a moment.

"Thank you for attending me in my boudoir, my two most favoured men."

"Again you are of course most welcome, but Jayne what do you have in mind," Adam managed to blurt out as his confidence returning.

With a beguiling and very sexy smile on her face, she replied in a highly coquettish manner. "I haven't simply asked you to join me in my boudoir, gentlemen."

"No, pray, where then?" Adam asked.

Jayne stood, turned her back on them, pulled the sheet back on the bed and slid under it.

"Here Adam," she said patting the bed on her right side. "And here William," she continued touching the bed alongside her left. "I wish you both to attend me in my bed."

Adam was amazed at the temerity of the woman; amazed, but also incredibly aroused. He didn't know for sure, though, what to do. Lay on the bed clothed, or undress first. Maybe because they had done this before, he conjectured, William seemed to know what to do. Already he had removed his cravat, taken off his waist coat and jacket and was undoing the buttons on his shirt.




Savannah 06



Jayne looked at him, smiled and nodded and whispered. "Yes, Adam."

Although he was hard, Adam did not feel embarrassed at undressing in front of Jayne and her 'nephew'; he had a good body, a hard, long cock and he was hugely attracted to both of them, so why should he be, he thought slipping his trousers off. He glanced across at William and his heart pounded when he saw that he was totally naked. 

He, too, was erect and he had a splendid cock. The men were glancing from each other to Jayne and back again as Adam pushed his drawers, or as they were now being called longjohns, down. He saw that William's eyes were on him as he bared himself displaying his rampant penis which was rearing spectacularly up his trim, flat stomach. He wondered whether young William was as attracted to men as much as he was.

Jayne was looking from an existing to a potential lover and back again. As she did she felt a shudder of excitement run through her. She looked at the two slim, well-toned bodies and the wonderfully erect cocks that would soon join her in her bed and then do what she confidently expected to be wonderful things to her. She wasn't wrong.

They got onto the bed and both kissed her, both touched her breasts through the cotton nightshirt and both ran their hands down her body. They slid them up inside the nightshirt and they slid them downwards from the buttoned top that one or both had now opened so her chest right down to her waist was now revealed. The hands caressed her breasts and stroked her rather paunchy stomach, her overweight hips, sturdy thighs and rotund buttocks. She opened her legs and reached for both erections revelling in holding the two at the same time as fingers slid inside her. 

She rode the fingers that were thrusting in her and squirmed against those that were pressing and pushing on her clit. Her head, partly involuntarily, but also because it was being caressed by Adam and William rolled from side to side as the two sets of lips and the two tongues addressed hers. Fingers between her legs, mouths and lips on hers and hands all over her body had the inevitable affect. 

She orgasmed, heavily and fully.

They rested for a short while, both men cuddling and caressing her as she came down from the heights of her climax.

"Oh God gentlemen, that was angelic" she sighed, alternating between kissing each of them.

"Mmmm," Adam muttered "Madam, you are amazing."

Between the three of them they removed her nightdress and both men complimented Jayne on her body, which although slightly overweight was Rubenesquely curvaceous and typically Southern belle, smooth and pale. Although her breasts were small the fact that they were capped with deep red, almost brown areolae and very long nipples more than compensated for the lack of flesh. In the dim light, lying in the middle of the bed with the sheet pulled back and her black hair tumbling down onto her shoulders, chest and breasts, she indeed looked magnificent. Utterly desirable and so totally fuckable.

She smiled at each of them in turn. She was lying on her back and they were on their sides, looking at her. The bedclothes were thrown back, they were all naked and both men's erections were rearing up their flat stomachs.

"My existing," Jayne said taking William's wrist. "And my new lover" she added, taking Adam's." Holding their gazes she said quietly, glancing from one to the other, "And soon we will all be lovers." 

She kissed them both as they accustomed themselves to being in such close quarters with a woman and another man.

They rolled around the bed as the men kissed the woman, licked and sucked her breasts, stroked between her legs and pinched and squeezed her fulsome buttocks and ample ass. 

Their bodies were alive with sexual tension and expectancy as Adam somehow found himself on top of Jayne and between her willingly and welcomingly opened legs. He was quickly inside her and was starting to fuck her when William eased himself alongside them. He and Jayne were kissing, but William's face joined them and Jayne kissed him, It was a stunningly exciting scene to watch a woman he was fucking kiss another man. At last they broke and Adam caught William's eye. Jayne slid away from Adam so that William could fill her and Adam now kissed her acutely aware of the pleasure that would be providing the younger man.

Adam was as sexually excited as he could remember being apart from when he had been with his sister. He had just had sex with a gorgeous woman and was lying next to a handsome, no beautiful was more apt, young man. Both of them were hugely erect and so close to each other. He looked at William who held and returned his gaze across the supine nakedness of his 'aunt.' Adam smiled and caressed Jayne's breasts. William did the same. Their hands touched as they glided across her body. Adam wanted to grab William's hand and pull it to his cock. He wanted both the woman and the man to attend to him down there. But he was in fear of making the first overtly queer move. He hoped William would lead the way, but he showed no inclination to do so.

Jayne pushed William off her body. "Both of you kneel facing each other," she ordered.

The men looked into each other's eyes and the other's slim body as Jayne manoeuvred herself between them so she could reach up, take each erection in her hands and pull them nearly horizontal to the bed so each was close to her mouth. 

As she held each cock tantalisingly close together she licked them and rubbed them slowly at the same time. Both Adam and William held her head and ran their hands through her black hair as she gently pumped each cock at the same time as she licked and kissed them. Adam could stand it no longer and reached out with his other hand. He found William's shaft and wrapped his fingers round it. The hard, warm flesh felt so good. At the same time he slid his other hand downwards and cupped one of Jayne's breasts. Could anything match this he pondered? A woman sucking your cock and you holding her tit as you stroke another man's cock? But William had other ideas, well not ideas for he had been told exactly what to do and say.

He grabbed his Adam's wrist and pulled his hand away.

"No sir" he said quietly. "That is not my preference" he grunted untruthfully for in reality there was little he would have liked more than to have had sex with both of them, but it was against the express orders he had been given.

"My abject apologies sir, I am deeply sorry" the contrite Adam mumbled.

"Fear not sir, it is not an issue, but let us simply enjoy our lady." 

Jayne smiled in understanding of Adam's quandary and felt pleased that she had established his sexual indulgence. She turned her attention to the two lovely cocks and she licked and sucked them as she pumped them both a little harder. It needed just the merest of the naked woman's fingers scratching across the two pairs of balls and they were both ready. It took just moments longer as they also p[umped their cocks for them to explode with their cum splattering onto Jayne's face and breasts.

After she washed her chest and slipped into a white robe William excused himself for his other appointment. Adam and Jayne had some more wine and fruit left over from dinner. A short while later they made very satisfying love. They utilised a variety of positions before Jayne concluded it kneeling astride Adam and holding her own tits as they both reached very satisfying orgasms.

Later, they drank more wine and then slept, or more accurately, slumbered for a while.

It was nearly light when Adam was lying on his front, his face resting on Jayne's leg as she stroked his back. He had just licked her to a nicely languid climax.

"So how is your darling sister, my wonderful friend Amanda?" Jayne asked cuddling Adam's head

"She's ok."

"Just ok?" Jayne asked running her fingers just inside the crease of Adam's bum.

Adam was now quite drunk from the alcohol and totally intoxicated by the sex. "Well, I think she's in love and maybe will be getting married."

"And pray Adam, what is wrong with that?"

"Well firstly, the man is a military General."

"Oh, I had heard she is close to Fairfax Leonard isn't it?"

"Lennon actually. Yes she is."

"Well I can understand that, he's gorgeous, but what other problem is there"

"Oh never mind," Adam groaned, as Jayne opened his legs and eased her face between them.

*

Later that morning, after Adam had left for Harvard and William was on his way by train to the Confederacy's new headquarters in Charlotte, Jayne took a carriage to the telegraph office on Beacon Street.

The telegrams that wended their ways over the telegraph wires went to an address in Washington and another in Georgia. Both contained the same message:

He's in love with her and she's in love with who you thought. And yes he is queer.

William arrived in New York by mid-afternoon and he too sent a telegraph south. That simply said.

She fucked him and he is queer.

At almost the same time as the telegrams were, incomprehensibly to most, travelling from south to Washington and even further south to Savannah, Missus Strand's carriage pulled up outside Strand's offices and town house. She knew full well that he wasn't there, but it wasn't her husband she wanted to see, in fact she rarely wanted to see him.

"So my dear tell me all about yesterday" she said softly as Missus Calthorpe poured her tea from a silver teapot.

*

A few days after the two messages were sent from Boston and Missus Calthorpe was taking tea with Missus Strand, Amanda was having an early lunch with Fairfax Lennon at Missus Cumberworth's guest house. 

This had been arranged by telegram the day after Amanda's tryst with Strand. Fairfax had left for New York the night she had sex with Strand so she had not had the opportunity to talk with him. Today, they had planned to have lunch, discuss what had been going on and then spend a leisurely afternoon in bed. After her unexpected excitement at the near depravity of her session with Strand, the prospect of a few hours tranquil lovemaking with Fairfax would provide a wonderful contrast. Although her faith in her 'true love' had been damaged she was looking forward to being with him very much.

"What?" Fairfax exploded, when she began to explain some of her conversation with Oliver Strand.

"I told you," she replied calmly, crossing her hands in her lap.

He paused, his voice a little softer. "Tell me again, very slowly and very accurately, what Strand said."

Amanda nodded patiently. "He said that if Lincoln becomes president they will set up a separate government of the Confederacy."

"Yes, I know that, we all know that, it's obvious, but South Carolina?"

"He said that they had passed the laws in congress in secret no er, um what did he call it oh yes in camera, so that they could by South Carolina State law leave the Union the moment Lincoln is declared president."

"The fucking treasonous bastards, that can't happen," Fairfax snarled, rising to his feet and storming across and out of the room. 

Hurrying downstairs, he told an aide to travel to Fort Myer just across the Potomac and get a message to Samuel Cooper, the Adjutant General that he needed to see him immediately on a matter of great urgency. 

The new, young president had made some significant changes in the lines of command and the army now reported to Cooper so effectively he was both John Floyd's and Lennon's boss. Lennon knew that he was due to leave the capital shortly for a meeting in Norfolk, Virginia with the British navy to discuss a potential blockade of the South, but stressed in the handwritten note he gave the aide that what they urgently needed to discuss was far more important. 

Fairfax knew that Cooper was with President Buchanan until late afternoon, so there was nothing more that could be done prior to that, so he fucked Amanda, twice. 

"Mister Adjutant General, may I present Missus Amanda Williams" Fairfax proclaimed when they were ushered into Cooper's office and hours or so after arising from their lover's bed.

"Good evening Missus Williams, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Good evening sir" Amanda replied.

"So, what is this all about? Would you care for a drink or some tea, Missus Williams, Fairfax?"

They all requested tea and chatted amiably until that had been served, Cooper and Amanda finding a number of common acquaintances including, of course, Oliver Strand.

"Some er... extremely interesting information has come into Missus William's possession sir that I think will be of interest to you and the President" Fairfax announced. He had advised Cooper in his earlier note that it concerned secession a subject on which he was one of the country's leading experts.

"I see," Cooper said quite neutrally, showing no overt enthusiasm for the news.

"Before you tell me what it is Missus Williams, please tell me how you came by the information."

Amanda kept her face as straight as she could. "From a friend."

"And why did the friend supply you with it?"

"I'm not sure really" she said, hesitating. "Perhaps because he is helping me sell my plantation" she rather inanely offered.

Cooper asked where that was and they discussed the current difficulties with selling such an asset. "Pray madam, why would you wish to sell such an asset when prices are at such an historic low. Would it not be preferable for you and your brother to retain it until the er problems are eradicated."

"My brother sir" she interrupted. "How do you know of him?"

Cooper suddenly looked flustered. He glanced at Fairfax for help, who smiled at Amanda. "I have of course briefed the Adjutant General, Amanda."

"Briefed sir, what does that actually entail?" She asked, feeling somewhat annoyed at being misled and embarrassed at what Fairfax may have said.

"Just in general terms madam so that the Adjutant General understands the important role you have in helping us."

"I see," Amanda conceded, not at all sure she saw anything, but she decided to let the matter rest for the moment.

Cooper chimed in. "I am sorry madam, General, but I have to leave for Norfolk in," he looked at his pocket watch. "Twelve minutes, so pray could we work with some haste."

"My apologies sir," Fairfax said. "Amanda heard some news that South Carolina has already passed the laws in secret for their secession from the Union."

Cooper's face changed instantly. "What?"

"Yes sir the laws have been passed in chambers as it were and are in the statute book as proforma. They simply need an event to happen and they become law."

"The event being?"

"Lincoln becoming president. The moment that is declared, South Carolina will leave the Union and become the Confederacy."

"And that's inevitable isn't it?"

"Er um, er, yes sir it is" Lennon hesitated twice looking from Cooper to Amanda and shaking his head trying to stop Cooper saying more about the scheme to rig the election that he and some of his cohorts were hatching; it never ceased to amaze him at just loose mouthed many politicians were. Amanda related what Cooper had said to what Lennon had told her and realized that the government really was intending to control and alter the will of the people by altering election results somehow. She felt sick.

Cooper thumped his fist down on the table. "Which is of course not only illegal but treason," he rasped.

"Precisely."

Cooper turned to Amanda. "Madam, I am afraid I will have to ask from whom you heard this information and the circumstances around how you acquired it."

Amanda felt her heart beat faster. She had no intention of telling this man, or anyone else, how she had given herself to Strand. She looked appealingly at Fairfax for help in finding a way out of the dilemma.

"The circumstances sir could be recorded in a confidential affidavit by Missus Williams" he said quickly.

"Yes, of course, but if this goes to court we may need that as evidence."

"That may not be possible sir, nor may the use of Missus William's name."

"For heaven's sake, why not?"

"That could be hugely prejudicial to the lady and indeed place her in danger. I'm sure you understand."

Cooper nodded as he controlled his frustration. Lennon's words made sense and he couldn't be responsible for placing the source of such valuable information in danger. "If I accept your point, then of course if I am not to know the circumstances, I need the name."

Nothing was said for a moment or two as they all looked at each other. Amanda dropped her eyelids, averting her eyes from the politician and her lover determined not to give Cooper the name. She was, therefore, mortified when she heard Fairfax say in a calm and even voice.

"It came from Oliver Strand."

"I see, a high level source then! The president will be impressed, thank you Missus Williams."

"So sir, what now?" Fairfax asked, after Amanda had been asked to wait in the ante room.

Cooper shrugged his shoulders. "We will need to know more, of course."

"What and why?"

"We need to know whose names are on the bill and who advised the signatories. They'll be arrested and tried for treason. We don't want to hang or shoot the wrong bastards do we?"

"No sir," Fairfax answered. Naively, he hadn't thought things through. He should have realised that Cooper would take a hard line. 

"You'll establish that?" 

"I will try of course."

"You will try General?" Cooper asked smiling and raising an eyebrow. "No, sir, you will not try. The importance is far too significant. We need this information, sir, and I rely on you to ensure that Missus William's supplies it. I hope I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly sir."

Cooper turned and walked to the door to the garden which was a short cut to where his carriage was waiting. Opening the door he looked over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow at Lennon smiled as he said. "I assume Strand fucked her General."

"I imagine so sir yes."

"Then I wish I had something she really wanted to find out, you heartless bastard."

Later that evening following a blazing row over the scene with Cooper and a wonderful making up with a bout of extraordinarily satisfying mutual oral sex. Fairfax cuddled Amanda's naked body against his and said quietly.

"Darling there is something we really need you to find out from Strand."



Savannah 07



Amanda and Adam returned to Selby Bluff in mid-July for the cotton harvesting. That entailed very early starts at daybreak, long days and late finishes at dark; a work pattern that neither were at all used to. The crop was satisfactory in overall volume, but the yield per acre was low, the lowest it had ever been. Most plantation owners attributed this to the slaves getting lazier over the years; they never really gave much consideration to fact that it might be due to lack of capital investment, training or lack of management techniques on their part.

The siblings were both appalled at just how hard the slaves were made to work even with the scratched and torn hands that were part of the lot for cotton pickers. Even the oldest and frailest were made to work along with the girls and women, some of whom were clearly pregnant. Although they both hated the spectacle they knew there was nothing that could be done so they spent most of their time in the house writing letters or completing their diaries.

"Amanda I really cannot stand this any longer" Adam grunted one evening when they met for a glass of wine before dinner. 

"Stand what brother?" She asked looking at Adam and realising that he was probably slightly drunk.

"These wretched souls working fourteen hours a day, seven days a week" he replied adding. "Have you looked at their poor hands?"

"No Adam" she replied not quite sure what he was talking about and thinking he might be joking. "But then I don't see their hands in close up do I?"

"What?"

Smiling she replied. "Emiline?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are her hands rougher than they used to be? You presumably see hers in close up." She smiled.

Adam realized what she meant. "Don't be ridiculous."

"What do you mean?"

"This has nothing to do with her, I am serious."

"Sorry brother" Amanda replied realising by the look on his face that indeed Adam was serious.

"It's just so horrendous how we treat them. It's not as bad as this in the slaughterhouses of Chicago, the steel mills in Pittsburgh or the garment district sweatshops in New York."

"I know darling" she whispered cradling his head in her hands as she saw that he was starting to cry.

Everything was getting on top of Amanda. She was beginning to loath the plantation and the life-style it created as much as Adam clearly did. Although she had believed that she had sorted out his financial affairs when they were in New York she was disappointed and annoyed to learn that more creditors were chasing him. One evening when he was slightly drunk and they were discussing the situation he tearfully admitted that he owed thousands of dollars that he had 'forgotten' about. The recession brought on by the collapse of the Ohio Life company had cost Amanda very heavily. As British investors withdrew funds from the US and invested them in the safer home markets so US stocks and bond prices fell, land values in the mid-west slumped, grain prices dropped severely and economic activity declined. Amanda was getting hit everywhere. Even her collection of jewelry was losing value for the gold flooding in from California was too much for the market to absorb without prices dropping, and they did. On top of that there was the situation with Strand and the conflict she had between abhorring the man yet gaining enormous pleasure and excitement from having sex with him or, she realized as that came into her mind, even the thought of having it with him. Then, of course, there was Fairfax and her 'love' for him and her spying on her 'homeland. Her life was too complicated, she was beginning to believe. 

The letter delivered by an army militiaman just as the final cotton was being picked, baled and dispatched simply added to her woes. 

My darling,

I am deeply and acutely aware of the imposition I place on you and it rips at my heart to do so. But there is a greater good that I seek to serve and know that you wish to help as well. 

I have no doubt that when your harvest is complete and the time is right that you intend to address the business we discussed last time we met. I hate to have to press you on this, but a hasty end to the matter in hand is becoming more crucial by the day. Anything at all, my love, that you can do to help our cause with this matter will be greatly appreciated by me, of course and by others at the very highest of levels.

Your everlasting love

F

"Damn, damn, damn, damn him and all men" she groaned after reading the elegantly phrased, but overall demeaning to her letter. 'It's almost an instruction from him and those of the highest of levels to let Strand fuck me' she thought, again wondering just who knew that she had slept with the monster and how far up the chain of command it went? 'I bet even old doughface knows' she thought using the nickname for the President who she had met many time when he was the US Ambassador to the Court of Saint James in London. 

She hated doing it, but tingled as she did. On a shopping trip to Meldrim she telegraphed Strand.

My Dear Sir,

Please forgive me being forward, but I am most keen to learn if there have been any developments with our mutual venture. I would be delighted to receive a telegram to advise me or, if you prefer, to attend on you to discuss the matter further.

My kindest possible regards

Your obedient servant

Amanda Williams

She had only been back at the plantation an hour or so and was just taking tea with one of the engineer's wife when she saw the courier arrive. Moments later Lucy a junior housemaid delivered the telegram to her on a silver tray.

"Excuse me Mary I do need to read this" she said fighting hard to stop her hands shaking as she opened the envelope.

My Dearest Missus Williams,

It was as delightful as it was precipitous to receive your message earlier this afternoon. 

There have indeed been some developments and I was just about to contact you to invite you to meet with me to discuss them. They are fairly complicated and may require us consulting with lawyers and possibly a land surveyor as well as having detailed discussions. I was hoping, therefore that you would be able to arrange a two day visit to Savannah at your earliest possible convenience. I shall be in Savannah for the next ten days and can make myself available to you to meet your schedule. I would, though, urge you to arrange this for the earliest possible date.

Your most willing servant and friend

Oliver 

"I have to go to Savannah for a few days," she told Adam after she had been into Meldrim and exchanged telegrams with Strand arranging a convenient date the Monday of the following week. She explained that it was to do with the sale of the plantation.

"Shouldn't I be there too?"

"Well Strand insisted I come alone."

"Hmmm, I wonder what he wants?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well you saw a lot of him in Washington and quite frankly Amanda, he is known as a notorious womaniser."

"Is he, I didn't know that?"

"Oh come on, you must have heard about him," he said sulkily.

"Well now you mention it Jayne Essington did rather hint that he has propositioned her."

"And others, you included I imagine."

"Actually Adam, whether he has or hasn't really is not your business is it?"

"Yes sister dear, it is, it's partly my plantation, but you go and fuck him if you think that will help sell the plantation" Adam snarled storming out.

Amanda felt a lick of heat inside her body. That was precisely her plan. They had made arrangements to have dinner together on the Tuesday, the day she arrived, when Strand had advised it will be a 'dinner a deux a la Washington' clearly implying that was when he would first take her. 

In the lengthy telegram exchange between them setting up their meetings they had been highly discrete using vague phrases and near codes to explain their points. He had implored her to leave the Monday afternoon and evening free adding very undiplomatically and cheekily 'night as well' for her to meet some more of his friends. Amanda knew that he wanted to impress her by showing how popular and well-connected he was and at the same time show her off to them and illustrate what a rake he was, for she was positive he had told some or all of his cronies, de Bow included, that they were lovers. That made her wonder just how many men from both camps were aware of her loose drawers.

As usual when in Savannah Amanda stayed at the Eliza Thompson guest house. That was now run by Eliza's daughter Megan, a fifty year old spinster. She provided an outstanding and extremely confidential service in her small, exquisitely appointed and scrupulously clean facility as well as providing wonderful food. Amanda had telegraphed her booking to the guest house and Megan welcomed her like an old friend showing her to her usual room that had a balcony with floor to ceiling windows overlooking Oglethorpe Avenue and Yamacraw Village. As Milly unpacked all the clothes and stored them away Amanda rested for what she knew was likely to be a very tiring, both emotionally and physically, visit.

As in Washington, Strand had a mansion outside the city and a combined house and office in the city in Reynolds Square. These were in addition to his official residence as the Deputy Lieutenant Governor that was in Forsyth Park. He, therefore, had a range of locations where he could indulge his fancies and the location he chose to meet Amanda was his office and house in Reynolds Square; it was just a few minutes carriage ride from the guesthouse.

She was very aware that Strand would expect her to pay a price for the help he had provided. What she didn't know was just what the price would be and what form it would take. That she would have to have sex with him was certain, and while it partly appalled her, in a strange and inexplicable way it also thrilled her, just as it had last time. 

Was that something to do with Strand himself? Or was it just the thought of debasing herself like a common whore for money and information that she found so arousing? But then on the other hand, her alter ego told her, it might be to do with the greater good. It could be that the thought of being part of the campaign to stop the country sliding into civil war appealed so much to her that it became like an aphrodisiac. It certainly felt that way and she liked to think that it was at least a contributory reason. The mere idea of being able to give her lover Fairfax Lennon information that could prevent the terrible suffering on the one hand made her feel good, but on the other excited her. After all, her thought processes told her; how often can a woman play a part in history?

*

Amanda arrived by carriage at Eliza Thompson's guesthouse at just after two on the Monday afternoon. It hadn't been a particularly pleasant journey for Casio the driver had to ride the horses fairly hard to maintain a speed where there was a constant breeze, cooling Amanda and Milly and that made the journey bumpy and very hectic. At a nice, leisurely pace the humidity and one hundred degree heat would have been so oppressive that the journey could not have been contemplated by a genteel lady and her maid. The fact that they were using a carriage and four made the speed possible and thus, they were transported from Selby to the heart of Savannah by noon in just over three hours, the quickest Amanda could remember ever completing the journey.

As she had expected there was a number of messages waiting for her. One was from Adam begging her forgiveness, another was from Fairfax, one was from Strand and the other, totally unexpectedly was from James de Bow. It didn't occur to Amanda until later just how de Bow could have known she was expected at the guest house. But then both national and state politics were both full of intrigue and so it seemed everyone had their own information network!

After she had met de Bow in Washington he had sent her a few telegraphs confirming that when she was next in New Orleans she would be most welcome to visit his publishing house and printing press. They had exchanged letters and when he was on his way from New Orleans to a meeting in Charleston just before the cotton harvest he and his wife had spent a night at Selby Bluff. Amanda really liked James and in other circumstances might have been very attracted to him, but not she told herself, that she would have any interest in becoming the fifth Missus de Bow, particularly when he was still attached to the fourth.

The telegram advised her that he understood she was due to be in Savannah this coming week and would she honor him by dining with him.

She wrote her replies, telling Adam that everything was fine and that of course he was forgiven and thanking Fairfax for his good wishes and confirming that she would try her hardest to find out more about the situation in South Carolina and the names of as many Fire-Eaters fighters as she could. She acknowledged Strand's message and confirmed her acceptance of his invitation to tea at his Government office in Forsyth Park at four when, as he put it, 'Hopefully we can fully address the sale of the plantation to leave the rest of our time together for more agreeable pursuits.' 

Amanda took longer composing her reply to de Bow for she was sure that he wanted to proposition her; the issue was whether she welcomed that and what her response would be. She thought carefully before replying:

My Dear James,

My most sincere thanks for your kind invitation to dinner. Regrettably I will have to decline for I am likely to have another arrangement. I would, however be delighted to meet you and Missus de Bow for tea on Tuesday if that meets with your arrangements.

Kindest personal regards to you both

Amanda

She had Milly take the messages to the nearby telegraph office and then undressed and removed her corset lay on the bed and snoozed. Milly returned at just after one having waited for replies that came from Strand and de Bow, but not Fairfax. Strand's simply stressed how much he was looking forward to seeing her again and de Bow's read:

My dearest Amanda

Whilst feeling inconsolable at probably missing the delight of spending an evening at dinner with you, I will of course alter my schedule so that I may accept your generous suggestion of meeting for tea on Tuesday; Missus de Bow is not accompanying me on this trip so she will not be joining us. 

Sublime though that tea will undoubtedly be, it will of course be of little compensation for the disappointment I will feel when we part after such a short period. I implore you with all my heart Amanda that should your circumstances change and you become free for dinner at whatever time and no matter how late, you think of me and accept my invitation.

I wait with bated breath and am at your beck and call

James.

Amanda felt a surge of excitement as she read the telegram. Firstly, that was because, as she expected, he was inviting her to meet with him alone and secondly due to his quite obvious desire to please and thrill her with his flattering and flowery prose. She was quite sure now that Mister de Bow was pursuing her, something that early middle aged divorcees and widows have to contend with. She decided to play a game.

My dear James,

In light of your situation with regard to Missus de Bow and my circumstances I feel that tea would be more appropriate and look forward to joining you. Do you have a location in mind?

As ever

Amanda

Milly ran her bath and Amanda luxuriated in the warm soapy water before dressing to meet Strand for tea. She wore only one petticoat, her chemise was under her corset, which she instructed Milly to lace up less tight than usual due to the heat. She wore an olive green dress with a high, tight front, which meant she showed little cleavage, but emphasized the fullness of her breasts.

If Strand was trying to impress her with the grandioseness of his official office, he succeeded. From being greeted by name by the two wigged footmen at the entrance, to being accompanied by a red coated page through the long corridors to being shown into Strand's huge office was a series of surprises and massive impressions to Amanda. Although she had visited palaces and government building in London, she was still amazed at the opulence of this State building, which wasn't even the main government facility.

The footmen passed Amanda over to a secretary who again greeted her by name. He was seated outside a pair of double doors. "Good afternoon Missus Williams, the Lieutenant Governor is expecting you, may I announce you?"

"Yes please" Amanda replied duly impressed by the organization combined with pomp and splendor that reminded her of the court surrounding Queen Victoria in Britain.

He tapped on the door and without waiting for an answer opened it.

"Lieutenant Governor, Missus Williams."

Strand was seated behind a huge desk, but quickly stood up and walked the forty feet or so Amanda guessed to greet her.

"My dear how lovely to meet you again," he said taking her hand and kissing it as the secretary left the room and shut the door. Immediately it clicked shut, he pulled Amanda to him and kissed her hard right on her lips. 

Between sucking and kissing her lips he gasped. "I have been counting the minutes until I could do this again."

"Pray sir, please" Amanda protested trying to push him off.

"Don't tell me to stop."

"But sir, your office."

"No one would dare enter" he growled, kissing her again.

He was too strong for Amanda to push off and she had to endure his slobbering kisses and bear hug cuddling until he had sated himself.

"It is wonderful to see you again Amanda," he said leading her to a sofa by a large bowed window overlooking a rose garden, a feature that had become popular since the one had been planted in the White House grounds.

He sat across from her and rang a bell.

"What may I offer you, Missus Williams?" he asked in front of the secretary. 

"Tea would be lovely please, Lieutenant Governor."

The lacky left to get the tea they had both ordered and Amanda and Strand made small talk as they waited. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, which wasn't surprising for it was only with his most stringent resolve that he was keeping his hands off her.

The intensity of his desire for her had increased with the length of time since he had last seen her in Washington. Since agreeing to this series of meetings his want had increased immensely and he had taken to masturbating at least once a day about her and on the nights he visited a brothel, which recently had become most, it was her who was in his mind when his body fucked the whore. Sitting there waiting for the tea he was once again mulling over in his mind what he would like to do to her this time. 

He was becoming erect at those thoughts and as the memories of her full breasts and rounded ass filled his mind. He wanted them, especially the rounded full cheeks of her ass. He wanted to stroke them, kiss and lick them, bite them, spank them, eat them and if he could and most of all he wanted to fuck them.

Amanda could see that his attention was wandering and desperately wanted to broach the subject of the plantation, but etiquette demanded that be left until they had taken refreshment and then had to be raised by the host of the meeting

"So Amanda," he started after the tea had been served in bone china, thin cups from a silver teapot. "Selby Bluff."

"Yes Oliver," Amanda breathed leaning forward so that, unintentionally of course, the material was stretched more tightly across her breasts.

"I have some good news and some not so good news for you. What would you prefer first?"

"The bad I suppose."

"Well that will not come as too great a surprise to you I imagine."

"Good, what is it?"

"The plantation has lost a lot of value due to the stupidity of the Yankees."




Savannah 08



The sale of Selby Bluff went through remarkably quickly and trouble free. It was near completion in the fall of eighteen fifty eight by which time Strand had managed to increase the sale price of Selby Bluff by over one hundred thousand dollars. Amanda, of course, had to pay the appropriate price for that by having both anal and normal sex with him approximately every other week as the negotiations were completed. 

As soon as the funds were in their bank accounts Adam left for Boston. "I doubt I will ever be back here" he said as Amanda bade him goodbye at Montgomery, Alabama railroad station in late October. 

They had spent a few days there as the lawyers completed all the documents the brother and sister signed them and confirmation was received that the funds had been transferred from Prussia to several different bank accounts in both Europe and America for Amanda and just the one for Adam. 

The meetings had to be outside Georgia as the deal was effectively breaking Georgia laws. It was tiresome for them to have to use a number of different railroad companies to travel north to Augusta then west to Atlanta north again to Birmingham and then south to their destination for this added some hundred plus miles to the four hundred as the crow flies distance and caused them to stay in rail-side guest houses for two nights. The advantage, though, was that Strand could not join them as he had no jurisdiction in Alabama and in any case he could not be seen to be a party to the sale as it was breaking the very State laws that he had established.

"Well have a good journey brother" Amanda said her heart beating a little faster as Adam held her arm and looked from her breasts to her eyes and back again.

"It would be better if you were coming with me."

"You know I can't."

"You could if you wanted to."

"It's best this way" she whispered as her lips brushed his cheek.

"I will see you in Washington in a few weeks" he said boarding the train north.

Amanda was staying a further night for she had more meetings to agree some investments, ironically enough in Prussia. The advice she had received about the likelihood of a deepening of the recession was to put more of her assets in Europe. 'It's also a hedge against any er, um troubles here' the stuffy, but very astute Prussian lawyer who was attached to the embassy in Washington advised her.

"Do you think the troubles will escalate?" She asked.

"Unfortunately madam that's not for me to comment upon or my area of expertise, but I do have a colleague who is a specialist in such affairs, would you like to talk with him, he's in the building" the typically overly cautious attorney advised.

"Yes that would be very helpful" Amanda replied.

"Missus Williams, it is a delight and pleasure to meet you" the stunningly good looking young man said holding her hand, bowing almost to the waist and kissing the back of her hand. He lingered his lips there slightly longer than etiquette required. Amanda was of course acutely aware of that, just as she was aware that he was holding her hand tighter and longer than most men did. Without lifting his head or straightening his body he looked up and caught her gaze. She felt a little flutter as his dark, broody eyes bored into hers. "I have heard a great deal about you."

Fanning her face as a precaution against him seeing her blush as she may well have been doing she said, rather huskily. "Indeed sir and pray from whom was that?"

Straightening and seemingly reluctantly letting go of her hand he replied with a small grin on his, near beautiful Amanda thought, face. "Many sources madam; the lawyers, businessmen in Savannah and the Deputy Lieutenant Governor."

"Mister Strand?"

"Yes I work for him."

"Indeed sir, doing what may I ask?"

"I am Cultural Attache to the State of Georgia legislation."

"That is most impressive sir, but exactly what does that mean?"

"I have studied and qualified Phi Beta Kappa in the South's history."

"From where was that sir?"

"The University of Georgia in Athens" he told her naming the oldest and most prestigious college in the State. "My job is to ensure that our history is known amongst the business, political and overseas diplomats who visit our great State."

"Herr Kaupning said you could advise on the potential troubles."

"Indeed I can ma'am for that has been the focus of my extra-curricular studying for the past few years" he went on sending frissons through the older woman with the way he held her gaze. As his gaze burned into her, Amanda felt as though he was mentally undressing her, which indeed he was.

"May I ask you to explain more to me sir?"

The plan that he had discussed with Strand seemed to be working. 

"Of course madam it would be my delight, but it is not a twenty minute discussion."

"No of course I appreciate that, it was frivolous of me to think otherwise."

"Not at all I could cover most aspects in a few hours, when do you leave Montgomery?"

"Tomorrow."

"'tis a pity for that leaves so little time for such a large subject. May I enquire as to your destination?"

"I am going to the Capital for I am moving there and I have properties to view." 

"A coincidence ma'am for I am leaving for Charlotte tomorrow. Are you taking the White Rose at two in the afternoon?"

"Yes sir indeed I am."

"Then perhaps, if it pleased you Missus Williams we could spend some time together on the train as I explain the situation."

"It would indeed sir."

Ableforce quickly rearranged his travel itinerary so that he was on the White Rose and joined Amanda on it the next morning. As it had happened they had a nightmare journey. The four hundred or so miles were scheduled to be covered in two days with two overnight stops. In the end result it took four days with three overnight stops. The train had a mechanical fault between Birmingham and Gadsden, there was no coal or wood at a refuelling stop just past Chatanooga and there had been a mudslide just before Greenville. Although this was tiresome to all the passengers it was mitigated for Amanda as she had booked a private car. This provided a sleeping facility for there was a narrow bed, but the railroads that they used on the trip still stopped overnight and the travellers disembarked and spent the nights in guesthouses. Amanda's private car, however, was a godsend in the terminable number of hours the train spent stationery in the fall heat waiting for problems to be overcome. The car enabled her to retire, undress and snooze or rest in privacy.

It all started well as the White Rose, named in honour of Yorkshire where the engine had been built, pulled out of Montgomery. Amanda and her young man sat in a public car as he talked to her about the 'difficulties.' They sat across a table as William explained a variety of complicated points about the history of the South. He had a large pad and a charcoal and occasionally drew pictures or scribbled points on the thick paper. Twice as he did that his hand 'accidentally' brushed against Amanda, once on her bare forearm and the other on her wrist. They both looked up when that happened for both felt a frisson of excitement run through them. Amanda pushed that from her mind, although like many women of her age she often fantasised about having sex with a young man.

William explained that it wasn't really slavery that was the core issue, but the reluctance of the South to change its way of life in any way including slavery. He went into great detail enthralling Amanda with his eloquence and knowledge about not only history, but also industry, economics, international trade and politics.

They were together all that first afternoon and evening together. They spent a great deal of the next day sitting impatiently for the train to move discussing the core issue; Amanda was enthralled by William's knowledge and intelligence. During the afternoon in the heat of the day Amanda retired to her private car, undressed and slept. Waking at around six she was surprised to find that she was cupping her breast through the cotton chemise and that she was hugely aroused. It was only moments later that she removed the chemise and one of her hands plunged between her legs as she imagined the young man, naked, lying on top of her nude body his thick, long cock buried deep inside her.

Returning to the public car to find out what was happening she was slightly embarrassed to see William sitting at the same table where they had sat earlier. She had never been in the company of a man she had masturbated over so soon after giving herself a climax about him. As he stood up to greet her Amanda felt herself flush as her mind went back to him lying on top of her his cock buried in her, her legs wrapped round her waist. As he explained the situation and that the railroad company was sending coaches to take the passengers to Berea where they had reserved rooms at a number of coaching inns and guest houses she used her fan to shield her eyes and cover the blush on her cheeks and upper chest.

William decided to 'try his hand' with the bountiful older woman who his boss had told him to get close to, he recalled from a meeting with the Lieutenant Governor. In a meeting just before he had left Savannah for Montgomery he asked Strand.

"How close pray?" 

"As close as you can."

"You mean have sex."

"Of course I mean have sex, what the fuck do you think I mean and what the fuck do you think I employ you for?" Oliver Strand had snarled at him when they had arranged for Ableforce to be in Montgomery for the signing of the sale of Selby Bluff.

"I need to know just how close she is to the spymaster."

"And sir, who might that be?"

"That my young man is that cunt General Fairfax Lennon."

Moving closer to Amanda who, due to the restrictions of the railroad coaches had, along with most of the other women, dispensed with her hoop and huge skirt and instead she was wearing a simple shift dress that he asked.

"Perhaps ma'am, if it pleases you we could dine together and continue our discussions."

"Yes sir that would be most pleasant, thank you" Amanda replied still unable to get the 'vision' of the young man making love to her out of her mind.

Sitting across the small table in the dining room of the coaching inn where they both had rooms William explained in greater detail the international aspects of the problems between the north and south. Whilst Amanda was aware of much of this from her discussions with Fairfax, William added many details and did not explain the situation with the Northern bias that her lover applied. He explained that it is more a matter of timing than anything. 

"The North wants everything now, we in the South have a more relaxed attitude and wish to proceed and modernise at a more measured pace, but we will get there."

They both felt relaxed and had probably drank a little too much of the red wine for their conversation strayed away from the main point and Amanda found herself telling the young man about her times in London a city he had explained earlier that he most desperately wished to visit. 

Suddenly they realised at the same time that they were the last people in the dining room.

"Perhaps we should go to bed" Amanda said, being rather careless with her language. Realising her mistake she looked up aghast as their gazes met.

Smiling he said.

"Alas ma'am I am sharing a room and my absence would be noted and your reputation sullied."

"Young sir" Amanda flustered. "I meant not what you assume."

"That is a great pity" he smiled adding. "My apologies madam I realise it was just a slip of the tongue, I should not have joshed with you."

Using her fan to hide it, Amanda also could not resist smiling.

Their dinner together ended after they had strolled round the coach house in the chill of the November evening. Returning to the resident's entrance to the side of the building they stopped facing each other.

"Thank you Amanda" Ableforce said taking her hand in his.

"Pray sir for what?" Amanda asked her heart pounding as she felt his thumbs rubbing the back of her hands.

Glancing from her eyes, down to the goodly expanse of bare flesh on her breasts and chest and back again he said softly. "For a most wonderful evening ma'am."

Their hands linked, their gazes locked and his knee pressed lightly against hers through the thin skirt, single petticoat and short chemise, their faces slowly moved closing the space between them. 'He's going to kiss me' Amanda said to herself her pulse racing.

'She wants me' Ableforce thought as his erection grew. He forgot that he was working, for like many young, red-blooded males he lusted for older, experienced women like Missus Amanda Williams.

Slowly he bent forward, his eyes boring into hers.

'I want him to kiss me, I want him to touch me I want him' Amanda groaned to herself as his lips brushed hers. William slid his arm round her waist that was pulled into a miniscule twenty four inches by her whalebone corset, as their lips met. He pushed his body forward so that his manhood pressed against her. Amanda shuddered at the combination of his lips on hers and the shaft of hardened male flesh pushing into her soft stomach. That made something click inside her. She realised it was wrong and that younger men can talk and boast of their conquests; she had to stop him she somewhat reluctantly concluded. Turning her face and easing her body away from his she said.

"I must bid you good night sir and thank you your attention this evening."

"It has been my great pleasure Amanda and I thank you.....................for everything" William replied feeling very disappointed.

Amanda undressed with William's words and the feel of his erection in her mind.

She again masturbated imagining William's fit, lithe and very virile body pressed firmly against hers and his lovely cock inside her.

As she did that William had that very cock in his hand as he too masturbated taking the utmost care to be quiet so as not to wake the other two occupants of the small bedroom.

With the mud eventually cleared from the line just outside Greenville the 'Rose' prepared for the hundred miles or so to Charlotte where Ableforce and Amanda would part. Because of the inclement weather they were restricted to a very slow speed and were warned that the journey to Charlotte could well take most of the day.

Due to a train behind them being derailed a number of passengers joined the 'Rose' for the remainder of the journey. This made the public cars very crowded and it was impossible for them to discuss the politically sensitive material they had left over from the previous evening.

"I am sorry ma'am" Ableforce said as they sat side by side in the crowded first class public car.

"Pray sir there is no need, we were both parties to what happened" Amanda replied assuming he was talking about kissing her.

Ableforce realised what she was thinking. "No Amanda" he whispered making sure nobody else could hear. "I meant for the crowded conditions" he went on as the train moved slowly through Greenville. "It would be unwise to discuss here what we need to discuss."

Amanda mulled for a moment or two.

"William" she said equally quietly. "My private car is number four. Would you like to join me there in say, ten minutes?"

A slight smile on his handsome face the young man replied. "Of course ma'am it will be my pleasure.

*

William Ableforce senior was Oliver Strand's cousin. He was from the poorer side of the family with which Strand's side did not mix very much. That was hardly surprising for Strand had cheated them out of a huge amount of money by purchasing some land they owned for a peppercorn amount. He had the full knowledge that a railroad company needed that land for the track into the station that was to be built in the centre of the city. Strand made a fortune and Ableforce lost almost everything; a fairly common occurrence with people who did business with Strand.

Strand was as devious as he was ruthless and he obscured that he was the purchaser from the family, even Missus Strand who couldn't really have cared less for in her world there was no place for poor people!

With the modest rent from the land on which Ableforce and his family had lived now gone, life became difficult for them. In an act of apparent generosity Strand offered to fund the education of the two sons William junior and John who was two years William's elder.

William was as brilliant at the recently opened Massie School in Savannah and at The University of Georgia in Athens as John was average. It became very clear by the time William was thirteen that he was as gifted with intellect as he was with handsome looks.

The two brothers split their school and university holidays between staying with Mister and Missus Strand and their parents who had now moved from Macon to Columbus, an even longer journey from Savannah. Strand could envisage a future for a gifted young man like William working for him. So as was Strand's wont he slowly manipulated his cousin's younger son, he persuaded him to stay longer in Savannah each vacation and introduced him to the social whirl of the vibrant city.

William studied the culture and history of the South and graduated Phi Beta Kappa at the young age of twenty one. Strand employed him in one of his companies and then found him a post as a Cultural Attache working for the State Government. Essentially that post required him to compose and distribute favourable propaganda on the South. As it was a secret appointment he was effectively a spy

"We have to combat the machine of the north with our own information" Strand told him adding. "We have to tell the world our side of the story, particularly with the diplomatic staff in the Consulates in New Orleans and the Embassies in Washington. You will need to do more post graduate studies at Harvard and Columbia so that you learn about the latest thinking by the fucking Yankees."

"What do you mean?" Ableforce asked assuming that he was to follow purely intellectual matters.

"We have to find out what is going on and mixing with the intelligentsia of the North is a good start."

"What spy you mean?"

Strand laughed and put his arm round the young man. "Let's call it information gathering shall we? But don't worry young sir you will be admirably well rewarded and you need only got up North for a few days each month."

Strand assigned the young Ableforce also to work with his 'great friend' James de Bow in New Orleans. He gladly provided the intellectually gifted young man a position on his well-respected publication the de Bow Review.

Strand knew very well just how much use a stunningly good looking, well mannered, very intelligent young man could be to him. And that wasn't just with disseminating propaganda. Although that was important, the manipulative Strand knew full well that many ladies from the Consulates and Embassies and occasionally the wives of business or political colleagues had penchants for young men like him.

With Strand hinting that he would rescue William's family financially and that the young man would receive untold wealth if he complied with Strand's wishes, Ableforce went along with Strand's plans for him.

A part of those plans Strand insisted that he leave Savannah for that kept him away from people who knew Strand and that increased young Ableforce's usefulness. It meant, for instance, that he could 'bump into' and meet ladies without them knowing his closeness to the Deputy Lieutenant Governor. Yes bump into and meet ladies such as Missus Jayne Essington and Missus Amanda Williams.

*

Amanda decided to move to the capital partly to be near to Lennon, but mostly to get away from the South without making the final commitment that she knew would come eventually, of relocating to New York or Boston. Her love for the General, despite the need to become Strand's whore, was becoming stronger by the moment and the long partings were as agonizing for her as she hoped they were for him too. Little did she know they were not in the slightest bit agonizing for him for in addition to her and Charlotte Fielding in New York, Fairfax really did have 'a girl in every port.'




Savannah 09



"So, you would like to fuck Missus Williams would you?"

"Yes Oliver, yes I would," Jayne groaned, bucking her hips as Strand's fingers slid in and out of her nearly dry cunt.

"Just like you and the whore fucked?"

"Yes sir, just like that," Jayne groaned recalling how the whore had pushed her vulva hard against hers and how they had ground their lips and clits together in a true woman to woman fuck.

Strand had brought her to one of his favourite brothels dressed in a heavy cloak and hood, whisking her in through a side door, up a flight of stairs and into the bedroom without seeing a soul. Devlin, Strand's most trusted servant had been outside the door on guard and had let the whore in when Strand gave him the signal. She was a good looking woman in her early twenties. Blonde, with a slim, boyish figure and hardly any breasts to speak of, Strand had been using her for some time, mainly because she was totally bisexual and played well with other whores or the occasional mistress he brought along. 

It was Jayne's first visit.

After her session with Adam, she had telegraphed Strand as ordered with the message: 'I have it'. The innocuous message would mean nothing to anyone but him.

She received a rapid reply. 'Be here Tuesday.'

Jayne booked into the Floral guest house where Strand had some permanent accommodation. As she expected, a message was waiting telling her what she should wear and that she would be collected at ten that evening.

"Undress quickly" Strand had ordered her after Devlin had shown her into the room, watching her with gleaming eyes as he sat on a chair in the corner. "Everything," he ordered when she paused after stripping down to her corset, chemise and stockings. "Lay on your front, across the bed so your head hangs over the side and keep still."

Strand opened the door. Devlin was standing there with the naked whore. Strand put his finger to his lips indicating that they shouldn't speak. He and the whore smiled at each other and Strand kissed her full on the lips, pinching her small tit as he did. She grimaced with the sudden pain but made no sound. They walked silently into the room.

"Keep still Jayne," Strand said feeling himself hardening from looking at the two such different asses, both of which he had fucked, licked and spanked. It was difficult to choose between the whore's pert firm twin cheeks or Jayne's sprawling pair of bloated buttocks. 

He nodded at the whore, smiling approvingly as she climbed onto the high bed and knelt between Jayne's legs. Sliding them further apart, she made Jayne gasp as she ran her fingers up the inside of the older woman's thigh and across her wetness.

When Jayne felt the fingers on her cheeks, pulling them apart, a shiver of fear passed through her. "No, not yet Oliver, not yet I implore you sir!" she said, still under the impression that it was only her and Strand in the room. Surely he wasn't going to fuck her there without some form of lubrication?

Strand ignored the protest and grabbed the young whore by the neck, pushing her forward.

Jayne's body jerked as she felt the delight of a tongue sliding along the crease of her ass and coming to rest right on the hole. The feeling was exquisite. The experienced whore was good with her tongue and quickly lubricated Jayne's ass before easing the tip of her tongue inside it. 

"Oliver, oh, Oliver" the widow gasped.

As her first climax began to bubble inside her, the naked Strand walked round to the side of the bed and grabbed Jayne's long black hair. When he pulled her head up and allowed her to see the young blonde, the orgasm burst through her like a tidal wave. 

Strand took immediate advantage by pushing his cock against Jayne's mouth and forcing himself between her open lips. He turned to Devlin who was waiting expectantly in the corner. "This one is mine, now. You can fuck the whore, Devlin."

Devlin crawled onto the bed pulling his trousers and drawers off and taking hold of his fully swollen manhood. He'd never seen the blonde whore before, but already he was excited at the prospect of having sex with such a beautiful young woman; a far cry from the older slags he usually was given. He got behind her where she was kneeling between his master's lover's parted legs and took hold of her hips imagining the lovely feeling he would have as his respectably long and thick cock surged up her young and hopefully tight cunt. Just as he was about to thrust himself in Strand said.

"Not that whore, the other one. The fat one."

After Devlin had fucked Jayne, the whore had licked and sucked her ass and Strand had cum in her mouth, the whore and Devlin were sent away with Strand saying to the blonde, "Devlin will fuck you now, make sure my man has a good time."

Left alone, Jayne and Strand lay for some time as they recovered from the quick, urgent and delightfully dirty sex. They dozed on and off for a couple of hours when he had some wine, bread, cheese and fruit sent up. He used the time to bring up business. 

"So madam, I gather you had a successful time with Mister Adam La Salle."

"Yes sir, I think so, in fact very successful."

"Is he an adept lover, Jayne?"

"He is, yes, he's very attentive and has fine stamina."

"For both sexes I assume?"

"Yes, very. Is that useful to you Oliver?"

"Confirmation of a rumour is always useful, but young Adam has been known to go both ways ever since Harvard."

"I see."

"But you and William's confirmation could always be useful if we need to pressure him. However, I am more interested in the lovely Amanda" Strand said reaching out and stroking one of Jayne's small tits.

Smiling and feeling a touch of rather ridiculous jealousy, Jayne said quietly "Now sir, I wonder just why that might be?"

He smiled back "Well yes that, but also other matters that are no concern of yours at all," he admonished.

"And what might they be, sir?"

Strands face darkened as he grabbed Jayne's right tit and squeezed it hard and cruelly. That made her cry out with pain. "I said, madam, that they are no concern of yours."

"Sorry sir, I didn't mean anything," Jayne lied, for she wanted the information knowing facts like that were always useful to trade in a place like Washington.

"So tell me about Missus Williams, does she enjoy and visit other women?"

"Not to my knowledge. Adam gave no indication that she does."

"And in all the time you have known her, you have seen no sign?"

"None whatsoever."

"But her and Adam have been lovers?"

"Yes."

"Adam wasn't just saying that?"

"No, he was completely under the influence of opium and one does not lie or make things up when like that."

"True," Strand said, recalling the times in the New York opium dens when had smoked. "So when was this?"

"There seems to be two periods, or maybe three."

"Three?"

"Yes, it started just after they had both lost their virginities, but then I think there was some more involvement when they were going to university or when Adam was there."

"In Boston presumably?"

"Yes, or maybe New York. She married Samuel who she met there."

"What about the third then?"

"I think they may be doing something again now, or have done recently."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Have I done well?" Jayne asked looking for Strand's approval, both because she needed his patronage and because being with him was always exciting; worrying, painful and degrading as well, but always exciting.

"Yes madam, you have done very well," Oliver said, almost absent mindedly as the thought of Adam and Amanda together filled his head. After thinking of those two as he looked down at the naked woman at his disposal, his imagination visualised her and Amanda making love. He began to harden at the thought.

As he started to fuck Jayne again his mind alternated between that and the fact that he had proof of Amanda committing incest, which was illegal in most but not all Southern States; it certainly was in Georgia. Ok the information might not be to courtroom level, but he knew from the past that was rarely needed to persuade people to do things for you.

And as Jayne was fucked by Oliver so her mind was also whirring, so she was working out what to do, how to handle and how to use the other amazing information she had got from Adam in his drugged state.

Deep down she hated Strand. He was the cause of her husband Henry's death some years ago and she was totally financially dependent upon the Deputy Lieutenant Governor. Whilst she felt that she was part of small group of people under Strand's control she was wrong. He had a large number of people that by one means or another he controlled. His information syndicate, as he called it, extended throughout the South, into government and overseas diplomats in Washington and even had tentacles into such restricted places as West Point.

After guaranteeing a loan for Henry's cotton machinery repair business, Strand had gradually applied more pressure on the rather weak-willed man who had few of the qualities necessary to run the demanding and highly competitive business he had inherited from his father. The business did not prosper from the infusion of the funds even when the loan was extended to almost one hundred thousand dollars. 

"So Henry, my friend" Strand had said as he lay back in his captain's chair behind his huge redwood desk while Jayne's husband stood the other side. "What are you going to do?"

Strand knew what was coming and was prepared for it when Henry asked if the loan could be extended. He was quite happy to do that for he had a mortgage over the entire company that although losing money through poor management could easily be made profitable. Strand knew that with just a few meetings between him and some of his many contacts he could introduce more business to Henry's company that would double its size. He also knew that if Henry still ran it that it would continue to lose money and on top of that he knew that Henry had one very valuable asset. He additionally knew, or thought he did that that asset, the delicious Missus Essington would, given the appropriate circumstances make herself available to him.

Henry bumbled on about extending his area of operation further north and west and gave some vague suggestions as to how he would get more business.

"But if you don't get the additional funding Henry" Strand said lighting a pipe and sipping a whisky. "What the fuck are you going to do?"

Henry went on about he was totally confident that the bank would extend it further, but Strand knew they wouldn't unless he guaranteed it, he had arranged that over lunch with Elias Blithers the manager of the bank holding Henry's account at the Cotton Club in Savannah just last week.

"You won't get it without my guarantee."

"Oh I don't think so, I have known Blithers at the bank for years."

"Yes sir, you may well have" Strand said raising his voice and waving his clay pipe at Essington. "But your company was not losing a fistful of dollars then was it and our economy was not facing such troublesome times?"

Essington was taken aback by Strand's tone and posture and in truth that frightened him. He was scared of Strand, who he had known all of his life, and deep down knew full well that he was lost without his patronage. He tried to bluster his way out of the predicament, but he was not very good at that and sounded, even to his ears totally unconvincing.

"Stop blithering man, whatever way unless I bail you out you are fucked right?"

Henry knew that was the truth and was almost in tears as he whimpered. "Yes Oliver."

Strand had him and he went for the jugular, his usual way of negotiating.

"I am mindful to continue guaranteeing the loan and will tell Blithers to extend it, but there has to be more collateral. What have you got?"

"Oliver you already have charges over the entire business and my home, I have nothing else."

"But indeed you do sir, indeed you do."

"And what is that?" Henry asked bemused.

"The bountiful Missus Essington."

"What do you mean?"

"It means my dear Henry that if you can be gracious enough to persuade the lovely Jayne to visit me occasionally, then your money worries over the business go away."

"Are you sir" Henry said with an unwise show of strength. "Suggesting that my wife lays with you?"

"Yes Henry that is precisely what I am suggesting. That Missus Essington visits me and I fuck her."

"Never sir."

"I beseech you not to be too hasty."

"I could not indulge such an arrangement."

"Oh I think you could be persuaded to quite easily Henry."

"I could not."

"You have a much larger issue than the company don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the debts you have run up gambling with Mister Norton and whoring at several brothels as well as what you owe on the apartment where you keep your eighteen year old mistress."

'Oh god he knows everything' Henry realised as Strand went on about numerous other debts. He then did start to cry.

It was less than a week later that Jayne Essington knelt before Strand in the same office where the discussion between him and her husband had taken place. They were both fully dressed but his fly was undone and she was holding his stubby cock in her small hand.

"How gracious of you madam" he sighed. "To offer to suck my cock."

That was how Jayne Essington became one of Strand's many mistresses. But that was not the primary purpose that he had in mind for her. He wanted her to be his whore as well. He wanted a respectable, older more 'normal' than the usual whorehouse whores he used to join his coterie of women that he 'employed.' He employed them to 'entertain' business, political and diplomatic contacts both to earn him favours and to gather information for him. But that came later for he knew that it would be difficult to persuade Missus Essington until he had her totally under his control. It was a stroke of good fortune for him when Henry Essington was found hanged in the workshop of engineering company less than a year later.

Although she considered herself to be a sophisticated thinker, a good planner and manipulator, Jayne really was an open book. She was emotionally very expressive, she showed everyone exactly how she felt, both good and bad, was quite temperamental and very warm and friendly towards nearly everyone she met. She was popular among both ladies and men, she was everyone's friend, was eager to please and wanted desperately to be liked, if not loved, by all. It was these characteristics that for all of her adult life had created problems with men and latterly women too. She was simply too keen to please to the extent that she welcomed people to her bed far too early in their relationship and thus, as is usually the case, the relationships didn't last, although the sex she had with them was generally very good and extensive for both of them. Most would say that Missus Jayne Essington was an exceedingly good fuck.

These traits, though, often caused her to make poor decisions. So after Strand had made love to her again, relatively tenderly and straightforward by his standards, she felt the need to impress him.

"I found out one other gem of information Oliver," she said, leaning her face against his chest and nibbling at his nipple.

"Really madam?" He asked now becoming a little bored. "Pray elucidate, tell me what it is."

"Adam made Amanda pregnant and she had an abortion! That's why she's never had children."

*

The tea went well with de Bow. He was, as she'd known he would be, charming company. Fairly, but not outrageously flirtatious he showed a genuine interest in her as a person as well as a woman, asked lots of sensible questions ensuring that their conversation rattled along at a fast pace with hardly a pause. They covered a range of topics from life in London to the current situation with the 'labour problem' and the twin threats of secession and war. His approach to the various issues was intelligent and thoughtful, he accepted and considered her views, something few 'Southern gentlemen' did with ladies and he was certainly not condescending or lecturing. He seemed as interested in her views as he was in offering his own and he persuaded her to play at least an equal part in the conversation. He used humour very effectively indeed making Amanda laugh out loud several times; overall he was charismatic and thoroughly enjoyable company. Amanda could see why he was so successful with women. As they left the Potomac Tea Pavilion de Bow draped his arm loosely round Amanda's waist as if to guide her through the large, double doors that had recently been fitted to accommodate the new fashion in skirts. Whilst the looseness of his arm indicated it was merely a chivalrous gesture the pressure of his fingers on Amanda's hip suggested much more than chivalry and that made her heart beat a little faster. He made it abundantly clear that he wanted to see more of her putting it to her rather flirtatiously as they parted. "In every possible way."

"Sir, that sounds slightly presumptuous to me," she said, covering her smile with her fan.

"No ma'am, it is not," he smiled back, his eyes twinkling. 

"No, pray why is that sir?" She asked.

"Because my dear Amanda it is not slightly presumptuous, it is totally so."

Amanda couldn't stop herself smiling and in part that was the reason why she agreed to have dinner with him the following week when he would be back in Washington.

Returning to her new home at six, Amanda immediately started to get ready for her dinner with Fairfax. After their last meeting at the guest house, she was acutely aware that tonight was going to be difficult for it had been arranged before she had demanded to see him urgently a few days ago, which was prior to a degree of disillusionment arising in her about him . A candlelight dinner had been planned at a house that was owned by the army and could be used by officers of his rank for entertaining. It was just across the river in Arlington, very near to the plantation owned by Robert E Lee. 

Amanda had been tempted to cancel the dinner several times, but she was torn. A part of her was in love with him, but then parts of half the womenfolk in Washington probably felt the same way, she conjectured; after all he was considered to be the most eligible bachelor in the capital. Another part of her was scared of him. Scared in the context of how cold and calculating he could be, but then she rationalised the Head of Intelligence in the US Army probably had to be like that. 

Additionally she did not want to lose him, both because of her love, but also because she wanted to try to help the South. That was not, she worked out, to preserve the slavery situation for she abhorred the idea that one person could own another, but more to protect the genteel and many felt sophisticated way of life. As fervent and evangelical as many Southerners were about their right to own slaves so she had come to realise there were just as many northern fanatics opposed to it. Just as in the South the burgeoning Confederacy had the Fire-Eaters, so the North had the Northern Radicals who were the driving force behind the growth of the violently anti-slavery Republican Party; they would think nothing of attacking the South and killing thousands.

Amanda was beginning to see trying to avoid war and prevent killings as her mission in life! Somewhat grandiose and maybe highly ambitious, but with her relationships with Strand and Fairfax and her contacts in both camps she felt that she could surely do something to help. She decided that she was certainly going to try her damnedest to do something and if that meant using her body then so be it.

The carriage ride seemed interminable and she found herself becoming more and more nervous the nearer they got to Fort Myer and the house Fairfax was using. She so wanted to see him, to touch him, to caress and hold him; she wanted him to kiss her, stroke her, feel her body and yes, make love to her. But she was so worried that the other side of him, the side she had only recently seen, the side that scared and worried her, the side that had got him to his high position in the army and the side she detested, would be more prevalent tonight.




Savannah 10



"You're lying," Amanda snarled at Adam.

"I'm not, why would I?"

"Because you don't like me being with Fairfax."

"Amanda, the man is a lunatic. He's a monster and a tyrant."

"Don't be ridiculous. Adam. He's an army officer and the head of intelligence, he has to have a sharp side."

"Sharp, he's a fucking sadist, he tortures prisoners for fun."

"Adam, please stop, you've been drinking and you are getting worked up and becoming annoying, you're exaggerating."

"Amanda, darling," he said sitting beside her on the seat that ran the width of the window in the drawing room in her new home and taking both her hands in his. "Yes I have been drinking and yes I may be exaggerating, well at least quoting rumours, but he does interrogate prisoners himself for no other reason than he enjoys it. In his position he does not have to, he has experts who work for him to do that. Ask yourself why would he?"

That was a question that Amanda most certainly would not ask herself.

They were in her house on the Sunday after the White House reception. She had no appointments and had welcomed Adam inviting himself round after he had lunched with some cronies at a new, fashionable restaurant at Buzzard Point near the recently extended Navy Boat Yard. He was slightly drunk when he arrived.

Adam was feeling very guilty about having told Jayne about him and Amanda. He knew he should not have done that and that the information of them committing the illegal act of incest between brother and sister, and Amanda having had an abortion, would be powerful information in the wrong hands, perhaps Lennon's was his thinking. Not only could it be used to blackmail and compromise Amanda it could also lead to his and her arrest for neither crime was covered by a statute of limitations.

As she was not expecting anyone other than her brother, Amanda was dressed very casually. She was not using her frame or hoops and instead was dressed in what was becoming the fashion in Washington when ladies were either alone or only with other females. She was wearing a plain, loose skirt that did not reach the floor, but ended on her ankles and showed her feet in her stockings and shoes or boots: a display that just a few years ago would have been unthinkable. For comfort, she had dispensed with her corset and for coolness her petticoats and even her chemise. Under the skirt she was merely wearing her open front and rear drawers. Above her waist, she was wearing a thin, cotton bodice that reached down to her hips. That provided her ample breasts little support.

Amanda knew that her outfit was risqué. She would never have worn it in male company, even and in some ways especially, if it was her brother but she hadn't been expecting him. He had just turned up, something he was doing more often recently and that annoyed Amanda for she knew that sooner or later he would arrive as she was in bed with the General. As he had told her in his slightly drunken state about Lennon, she had seen him looking at her breasts and rear as the flesh moved and wobbled under the thin material. She was aware that Adam still had difficulty in containing his urge for her, as indeed she did hers for him. As her brother's eye roamed over her body in the, what would be considered by many as being, unconventional and by some unsuitable, dress her mind flashed back all those years to when she had first worn such an outfit in front of him.

She had been eighteen when anything had first happened. Of course before then there had been moments, stares, touches, stolen glances and times when it seemed as though something might happen. But both were frightened, as rightly they should have been. It was wrong. Blood relatives should not be intimate with each other and they should not have carnal feelings or, even more so relationships. 

But this was the Deep South, taboos were different, standards and expectations were different. 

They lived miles away from other children, they were cut off from contact with others, had hardly any friends and little chance of meeting boy or girl friends. The luxury of the huge mansion and almost town level of facilities of Selby Bluff where every whim they had was taken care of by their servants and slaves was not an effective alternative to living a 'normal' life.

They were rarely alone in the house. It was just not possible with thirty or so live in servants and probably a hundred slaves who attended to the household, which at the time was Florence and George, Adam and Amanda's parents, granny O'Rourke, Florence's mother, two widowed aunts and the two of them.

Unusually they were alone for a few days for the elders had all gone to a distant, but incredibly rich relative's funeral in Savannah and Adam and Amanda had been left in the good hands of the servants.

Their rooms were on the third floor. In a gesture that was by their father's, but not their mother's, view extremely liberal, an apartment had been created for the two children at one end of the third floor. They each had a bedroom, there was a sitting room, a small kitchen, a tiny dining room and a classroom where the tutor, the redoubtable and largely scorned by them, Mister Blount, had provided their early education. It was all due to Florence who held attitudes well beyond the times.

They were in the sitting room after they had eaten dinner; they were relaxed and alone.

"You know Adam, this is the very first time we have been alone in the house" Amanda had said for no other reason than curiosity as she walked towards her room.

"Oh yes, so it is," her brother said, stretching out on one of the two plum coloured, velvet covered chaises. He was wearing tight, white, wool trousers, a scarlet cummerbund and a white shirt that was open half way down his chest. He had removed his boots and was barefoot. Amanda thought he looked very handsome. 

As had been her way ever since she was a child, Amanda had changed from her day clothes once dinner was finished. When the family were there she would say her goodnights to her parents, aunts and other guests, there was nearly always a few, go to their apartment and undress. The formality, awkwardness and sheer heat of her stockings, knickers, chemise, corset, petticoats, hoop frame and dress was oppressive and she could hardly wait to rid herself of them. 

Knowing that she, if Adam was away or, if he was home, they would not be disturbed, for Florence insisted that everyone in the family should have their privacy, Amanda would don her nightwear. Usually a simple white, shift chemise type of cotton dress, with, when she was younger, long sleeves, but now short so her arms were almost bare, it reached to  mid- calf. She wore nothing under it. However, as she and Adam got older, Florence suggested that she wear a shawl or bed jacket to cover her arms and that she keep her stockings on until she was alone in her bedroom. 

Even her enlightened mother seemed to Amanda to have rather prudish views. In reality, though, it was not that which prompted Florence to make such suggestions, it was because she was aware of the 'temptations of the flesh' between people of their ages, even brothers and sisters. Florence was also acutely aware that incest was rife in the South and, although intellectually she was fairly neutral in her views as to the emotional aspects, she was highly concerned about the potential physical repercussions if 'things went wrong.'

As it was a particularly warm evening, Amanda had removed her stockings and hadn't bothered to button up the short bed jacket. Due to her nightdress being cut fairly low at the neck and was only ankle length, a fair expanse of her chest, her bare ankles and her feet were constantly on view to Adam. Although when he was younger he could recall seeing her bare arms, her chest above her chemise and her feet, it hit him hard when she came out of her room to the classroom where they were to study for now his sister was a woman.

Adam was standing behind the back of the chaise reading a book on Venetian art. He looked up and stared at his sister as she walked across the room towards the table. She was barefoot, the nightdress flapped around her bare ankles occasionally, or so it seemed on the short journey she made across the room, rising up and exposing her lower legs. The cotton clung to her. It clung to her knees, her upper legs, her thighs, hips and buttocks. But most of all he noticed, it clung to her bosom. 

Adam had become more and more aware over the past year of his sister's breasts. She had reached the age where they, along with her hips fill out, become more rounded to give her the look of a woman and no longer a girl. It gave her, he thought, the shape and look of the many whores he had visited in Savannah.

As she walked across his line of sight he saw the fascinating movement of those globes of flesh that are so attractive and appealing to men whether they be exposed or covered as they were now. He imagined that he could see the shadow of his sister's areola and the outline of her nipples, but of course that was just in his mind. He could, though clearly see through the thin, slightly stretched cotton the outline of her upper legs, her rump and buttocks as they swayed and wiggled so wonderfully provocatively as she approached the table, bent forward and sat down. He was confused, worried, excited, concerned and very hard indeed.

"Are you okay, Adam?" Amanda asked looking over her shoulder

"Yes" he gulped.

"Are you sure, maybe I can get you some water?"

"No, I am fine."

They started their studies. Adam worked hard to contain his interest in his sister and his excitement that increased every time she moved and her breasts wobbled under the nightdress, but it was impossible and his erection reared all the way up his flat stomach in the tight trousers.

Having a progressive and liberal mother and a father who had hardly any interest in his children, they had been introduced to wine and mint juleps from an early age and were allowed to drink a couple of glasses each evening, usually a glass of white with dinner and port or red wine after it. Tonight had been no exception and they had drunk the sweet, white wine favoured by their father.

Whilst Amanda was allowed to drink wine, it was unthinkable that a lady would ever pour it, not even in front of her husband or brother.

"May I have a glass of port please, Adam?" Amanda suddenly asked.

'Oh shit,' Adam thought.

"Yes of course," he said moving from behind the cover of the chaise. His plan was to get to the bureau with his back to her and try to approach her from directly behind her. It almost worked, but when he was half way between the bureau and the safety of the table, Amanda suddenly pushed her chair back and stood up.

"I think I will have a biscuit with it, would you like....." she said stopping suddenly as her gaze dropped down her brother's body and she saw his erection. She was shocked, surprised and amazed but not revolted or horrified. Their eyes met.

"Sorry, Amanda" Adam groaned handing her the port.

She didn't know what to say, she didn't know how to handle such a situation. "Oh Adam," she whispered.

"Don't be annoyed sister, please don't be."

"I'm not," Amanda carried on in the same very quiet voice as neither of them moved.

"I can't help it."

"I know."

"And I am so sorry."

"Yes. Let me get the biscuits."

Nothing more was said that evening, but as they ate dinner together the next evening the atmosphere was so laden with sexual expectancy that it could have been cut with a knife. They had not seen each other during the day and had hardly spoken after the incident the night before. Both, however, had found the need to masturbate when they went to bed. 

Amanda was still a virgin, but Adam had been taken to the Savannah whorehouses several times now and although he had not had a woman who wasn't paid for he was becoming quite experienced.

Amanda had little sexual experience, just a few kisses and twice hands on her breasts, but as one of those was her father she discounted that. She had never touched or seen a man's penis although she had seen drawings. She was hugely surprised at just how large Adam's looked inside his tight trousers for it seemed to reach right up to his waist. She masturbated wondering just what it would feel like in her hands and then inside her. He masturbated thinking about fucking his sister.

"I think I shall go to bed early tonight," Amanda said quite suddenly the next evening. She stood up dressed in the same clothing as the previous evening.

"No studying tonight?"

"No, I feel tired."

They stood looking at each other for a moment and although she was tempted to glance down her brother's body, she didn't.

"Look Amanda I don't really know how to say this."

She guessed that he was going to mention last evening. Smiling she reached forward and placed her fingertips on her brother's lips and said softly "Then don't."

As she reached forward her breasts jiggled strongly inside the night dress and the front gaped. Adam saw right down it. He saw her breasts, both of them, her full, soft, wobbly, creamy breasts and the delicate pink nipples. He couldn't stop himself and a low moan slipped from his mouth. Amanda knew immediately why. She quickly turned and skipped across the room calling out good night as she escaped to the safety of her own bedroom.

As she lay on her bed, she heard Adam moving around in the sitting room.

He didn't know what to do. He drank her port and poured another. He was so aroused. He rubbed his erection outside his trousers then slid his hand inside, that felt lovely. He lay back on the chaise and imagined his hand was Amanda's; he imagined it was her hand, her stomach, her breasts and her cunt, he imagined he was fucking her.

Amanda was so confused about her relationship with her brother. One moment worried at how 'bad' they were, the next so excited at what she had seen. One moment concerned about the taboo nature of what was happening between them, the next aroused at the prospect of 'something' happening. She had to talk to him, she needed to know more. She hated unanswered questions. 

Getting up she quietly opened the door and walked into the room. They surprised each other. Adam was lying stretched out on the chaise, his hand inside his trousers, Amanda walked across the room in her sleeveless night dress, for she had removed the bed jacket. Her arms were bare, her chest was bare, her ankles and feet were bare and inside the white night dress her body moved, her breasts swayed and her buttocks jiggled and all of those were also bare. 

Adam moaned, "Oh God," as he took his hand from inside his trousers.

"Adam we have to talk" Amanda said pushing his legs from the chaise and sitting down beside him.

He sat up just as Amanda turned towards him. His left arm and shoulder pressed right against her unfettered breasts inside the thin nightdress. They both gasped. "Oh Amanda," he groaned as the softness of her bosom seemed to wrap itself round his arm.

"Oh God" Amanda sighed the pressure of her brother's arm sending wonderful sensations through her.

For a moment neither of them moved, but then Adam, completely unconsciously let his left arm drop. His hand fell onto his sister's leg. They both felt the surge of sexual arousal race through their bodies. Their heads turned towards the other, they were so close, almost touching. He hadn't moved his hand, it was still resting on her leg mid-way between her knee and her groin; she had only had one boy or man touch her there before and she was amazed at just how erotic it felt. Adam had never touched a female other than a whore's bare leg before and he could hardly believe the feelings that surged through his body as his fingers caressed his sister's leg.

The feelings from his fingers and hand sent sexual shock waves up the inside of her leg directly, it felt to Amanda, to her clitoris. And with the soft shape of her upper thigh transmitting similar feelings directly to his cock, they both sat there transfixed staring into each other's eyes. Slowly, almost imperceptibly their face moved towards the other just as if being drawn by a magnet. And then they kissed, at last they kissed, after all the time they had wanted to, they kissed each other. 

It was soft, gentle and enquiring at first, but then their mouths simply exploded. Their lips parted, they squirmed and writhed and their tongues as if with minds of their own plunged into the others mouth. It went on and on.

Amanda had rarely been kissed like this before. She had never felt anything like this before. Neither she nor her brother had ever experienced anything like this before. The rush of sensations that surged through both of them made her feel dizzy and made Adam realise the difference between sex without affection or meaning and sex with it. The power of the sensations that enveloped him made him moan and cry out.

His arms round her, he pushed her back into the corner of the chaise and laid half on top and half beside her as they continued their fervent so passionate kiss.

"Oh Adam, Adam," Amanda groaned almost sobbing.

"Yes my darling, yes."

"This is wrong."

"No it's right, it is so wonderful it can't be wrong."

"Oh God."

They kissed again, but of course it could not stop there, that was impossibile. Adam's hand found her breast. Her body jumped as he squeezed gently.

"No Adam, no," Amanda moaned, knowing that it was said without conviction for she had no conviction about stopping. She wanted more, but she didn't know what she wanted for it was totally uncharted territory for her.

"Yes Amanda, yes" he groaned kneading the surprisingly full globe of his sister's breast through the thin material.

"Oh Jesus, oh God, oh yes," Amanda could not stop herself groaning, so strong were the feelings that her brother was giving her. "No, no" she cried as he tried to push the strap of her nightdress off her shoulder. 

Even in her highly aroused state, the idea of her brother seeing her naked breasts seemed unthinkable, or was it? She grabbed his wrist and stopped him, but he pushed, she resisted, he pushed harder and at the same time, possibly inadvertently but certainly persuasively, crushed his erection against the top of her leg. It was like a rocket going off inside her.

"Oh, oh, oh," she sighed letting her hand fall from Adam's wrist.

He pulled the strap away along her shoulder, round the joint and down her arm taking the bodice of the dress with it. Slowly, wonderfully and amazingly erotically the full, naked glory of his sister's left breast was revealed to his lustful, loving gaze.

Amanda was perplexed. She couldn't believe what they were doing, she knew it was said to be wrong, a sin, a taboo and was probably illegal. But how could something as beautiful as this be so wrong? How could such pleasure, such love, such tenderness and such sensitivity be illegal?

"Oh Amanda, your breast is so beautiful," Adam sighed running his fingertips up the slope of the mound and across the clearly hardened nipple, sending even more waves of sensual sensations through her. His hands went to the other strap, but again Amanda resisted. "No Amanda, you can't stop me now," he whispered.

He was correct. This time the resistance was only perfunctory for her arousal and the need to feed that far outweighed her reservations and inhibitions.

As Adam peeled the other strap away from her and pulled the front of the nightdress down, Amanda suddenly realised that this was precisely what she wanted, what she needed and what she desired. She wanted her brother to see her breasts yes, she recognised to herself, she wanted to flaunt her body at him.

They kissed more, lots more, it was amazing. He kissed her mouth, her lips, her chin, her neck, her shoulders, her chest and then most wonderfully her breasts. He licked and kissed them, every inch of them and then her areola and nipples. He pushed the two lovely orbs together and one after the other he sucked her nipples. That made Amanda climaxc which in turn made her emotions explode. She started to sob uncontrollably.




Savannah 10



"Oh Amanda stop, please stop," Adam implored as she pulled her clothes back into place.

"I can't, Adam, I don't know what's happening to us."

They went to bed alone that night. Amanda cried herself to sleep while Adam masturbated. Her mind was in a whirl all night, at breakfast in the morning and working with him and Mister Blount the next day. She couldn't concentrate on her work and Blount had to admonish her twice, something that rarely happened, for she was mostly an attentive student unlike her brother who was a dreamer.

Amanda didn't change for dinner for she stayed in her conservative, floor length dress and all her normal underwear. 

Adam of course noticed that. "Amanda there's no need to be uncomfortable" he said when they went to 'their' suite.

"It's best Adam," she replied trying to sound and seem as controlled and in charge as she could.

"No, it's not."

"It is we cannot do that."

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"That's beside the point."

Adam sat beside her, again on the chaise. He held her by her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes whispered. "No Amanda, it's not beside the point, it is the point."

"What do you mean?" she asked not struggling to move away from the intimate and highly compromising position. She knew that she should for surely it was encouraging him, but she did not have the resolve; she felt that she was under his spell.

"Enjoyment Amanda, that's the point of life, it's why we live, us rich Southern slave owning white folk, what else is there?"

"Don't be silly," she managed to argue as once more, just like the previous evening their faces moved towards each other and again they began kissing.

This time it was slower, more reserved, less urgent, but still there was the underlying passion, still their lips ground together, still their tongues plunged and still Adam touched her breasts. That did it, she was gone, all her reserve, all her resistance and all her inhibitions vanished and she fell completely under his control.

"Why don't you go and dress as you did last evening," he whispered into her ear.

That made her giggle, or was that nerves she wondered. "Why?"

"You know why, Amanda."

"Tell me."

"I want to see you and touch you."

"Adam, we can't do this, we can't go on."

But Amanda was wrong, for she did go and undress and put on what she had worn the previous evening. They did kiss, he did push the top of her nightdress down, caress her breasts and then kiss and suck her nipples.

"Okay?" he asked as his tongue flicked across them.

"Mmmm," she purred loving the sensations and feelings, but hating the guilt she was suffering.

Adam wanted to ask her to go to bed. To lay on it, get under the clothes and cuddle, sleep together and then fuck, but he didn't have the nerve to do that. Instead, as last evening he pushed his bare-chested sister back into the corner of the chaise and laid half on and half beside her. He kissed and sucked her breasts working her up to a state so that when he slid his hand up the skirt and onto her upper thigh, just inches from her vagina, she had no will to object or try to stop him. 

She did what most sexually experienced women would do. She let her legs fall open

He felt sexually elated and she felt apprehensive, nervous, but very grown up, womanly and hugely expectant of what was to come. Still kissing her, he slid his hand further, nearer, higher up her inner thigh and closer to where they both knew it should be and where they both wanted it to be, her cunt.

He rubbed along the wet length of her slit, pressed on where he had been told by the whores was the most sensitive place on a woman and then slowly, carefully and meaningfully pushed his straightened fore and middle fingers into his sister.

If the earlier new experiences of his hands and mouth on her breasts were amazing then what happened as her brother's fingers penetrated her body was indescribable. Her entire body was stimulated, her back arched, surges of such extreme pleasure went through her that they were almost an ache or pain and she ground her body against the surrogate cock that was simulating a proper fuck. Unbeknown to Amanda but as she was revelling in the throes of her climax, her brother was ejaculating in his pants.

As these recollections of her very early sexual experiences with her brother were going through her mind Amanda was looking out of the first floor sitting room at the back of the house overlooking Books Hill Park, which she thought was very pretty indeed. She was also thinking about what her brother had said about Fairfax and she had started to ask herself that question. 

'Why would he interrogate prisoners himself when he didn't need to?' She had no answer to that, merely more questions.

"I'm sorry sis," Adam said, moving behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Do you love him?"

"Oh Adam, I don't know," she almost sobbed, the feelings of betrayal and let down surging through her. She momentarily leaned back against her brother before turning with the intent of going to her bedroom. As she leaned back she felt his erection against her rump and then as she turned she saw the bulge in his trousers.

"Oh fuck, Amanda, I am sorry," he whispered as they looked down at his groin.

Inevitably that brought back memories for both of them. Of course, to the time he had first kissed her, exposed and then touched her breasts and naturally and inevitably to the times, three days in a row that he had finger fucked her on the chaise. 

The family returning from the funeral put a stop to their sibling sex and they both worked very hard to resist the awful temptations they felt whenever they were alone and there was no chance of them being caught.

In a mansion the size of Selby, with its huge staff, isolation was a rarity so it was weeks before they were alone again. This time the family went to Savannah for just one night to hear the reading of the will of the relative whose funeral they had attended; they were expecting a large inheritance.

Mister Blount was with Adam and Amanda during the day the family left; he was teaching them about some of the Greek philosophers, a topic Adam found particularly interesting. Despite his keen and Amanda's reasonable interest, they both found it difficult to concentrate. They felt very tense and edgy. They were expectant, although nothing had been said about tonight.

Finishing their studies, they had dinner served in their 'apartment.' They both drank two glasses of white wine, one before and one with dinner. They needed that to loosen them, to relax them and get them to talk for, since Blount had left, they had hardly exchanged a word. The meal finished and the table cleared by the servants, they looked at each other. They knew what they wanted to happen, they knew what each of them desired, but words failed them until Adam said quietly. "Are you going to change this evening, Amanda?"

Her head bowed forward slightly she looked out of the top of her eyes at her brother. Her heart was beating wildly, his pulse was racing, her nipples had already hardened and he was stunningly erect. "Do you want me to Adam?"

"Oh yes," he breathed. "Yes Amanda, yes please."

She went into her bedroom and undressed. She was very excited indeed and could not resist touching her bullet hard nipples and feeling the wetness between her legs. She was panting as she went to the large oak chest, opened the bottom draw and pulled out a clean nightdress. It was sleeveless, with lacy straps and a modest neckline and came to    mid-calf. She let her chestnut hair down and went to slip into the nightdress, but then something hit her, an idea, a thought and impulse.

Adam was waiting impatiently in the dining room. He had removed his jacket and cravat and had undone some buttons on his white cotton shirt. His erection had subsided a little, but returned in full force when he heard his sister call out. "Adam."

"Yes Amanda."

"Would you like to come in here?"

He hadn't been in her bedroom for years. He walked across the dining room and into the sitting room. The door to her bedroom was ajar. He pushed it and looked in. "Oh my God," he groaned, when he saw that she was in bed with the bedclothes pulled up round her neck. Her rich, chestnut hair tumbled across the crisp white cotton pillow and onto her chest and the sheet.

"Come to bed Adam" Amanda whispered.

It was the most sexually exciting experience either of them had ever had.

He walked to the bed muttering. "Oh Amanda." Removing his shirt he lay on the bed beside her but on top of the sheet. "Are you sure my darling?"

"Yes Adam, but not sex, I can't have full sex."

"No I understand."

"Please hold me Adam" she asked tugging at the sheet so it slipped from under him and he slid in beside her.

"Shall I take these off?" he asked about his trousers.

She smiled. "Yes Adam I want to feel you."

Her brother quickly shrugged out of his trousers "And these?"

"Yes Adam, I want to see you as well."

He slid his long drawers off and Amanda saw a man's cock for the first time quite as close as this. As they kissed he stroked her breasts, and pinched her nipples. For both of them the feelings were sublime. 

Along with losing her virginity and having a man penetrate her for the first time, Amanda's main thoughts as she masturbated most days was holding a man's penis. Since she and Adam had done the things they had a while ago, in her mind as she squeezed her breasts, pinched her nipples and rubbed her clitoris, it was the cock that was now pressing against her hip that was the focus of her masturbatory fantasies. 

It was, therefore, almost a natural action for her to reach down and run her fingers along it. It felt every bit as wonderful as she had envisaged it would. She stroked it, she rubbed it, she held it and she caressed it. 

She loved the feel of him in her hands and she loved the look on his face as she gave him the sensations that made him gasp, groan and moan. She also loved his fingers finding that special spot at the front of her opening and rubbing it. More than anything she loved the sensations that built up in her as she had what she now knew was an orgasm.

As the waves of sensations washed over her, she lay on her arched back, her legs closed, Adam's fingers probing into the folds of pink flesh at the vee of her pubis, his mouth licking, sucking, kissing and chewing her breasts and nipples and his big, hard cock in her hands.

As she came down from the erotic heights of her climax, so she realised he had had nothing. Her entire body still tingling she turned onto her side facing her brother. His cock looked awesome. Her hand looked so small and white circling the thick and long stalk of such male flesh as she started to pump it. She had no idea, other than what her womanly instincts told her to do, so she followed those. 

Hardly able to get her fingers right round it, she pumped his cock with long slow movements. The way he moaned, his body writhed and the thrusts of it in her hand indicated that she was doing the right things. And that was confirmed very quickly in the most dramatic way when, with a deep, animalistic moan from him, a huge thrust of his gorgeous cock and a shudder that ran through his entire body, streams of spunk shot from it all over her hand and wrist and onto his stomach and chest.



Savannah 11



"It's a very simple proposition sir."

"Tell me" the exhausted half naked man, smeared with blood croaked.

"Give me the names of the plotters and you will suffer no more" the man in the white shirt and blue militia trousers with black suspemders replied brandishing the pincers.

"Never."

"You are a stubborn fool."

"But I have my honour, not like you, you fucking sadist."

With the hand not holding the sharp pincers Lennon slashed the riding crop across the prisoner's back. Blood oozed from the wheal that rapidly became a cut.

The prisoner was tied to a chair with his hands bound to the table, his fingers on one hand had already been broken by the General using the crop handle.

"Your honour has no service in this room, it is a useless façade."

"It will serve me well when I leave the room."

"It will not."

"Why not."

"Because unless I get the names the only way you will leave this room will be in a coffin."

"Then I will die with my honour intact."

"That is your choice sir to consider as I leave you alone" Lennon said leaving the room.

"Have you cracked him yet sir?" Lennon's most trusted aide asked.

"Nearly, but he is a tough one."

"All the better though General when you break them aren't they?"

"Very true Collins, very true indeed."

Lennon strolled from the basement in the warehouse in New York near to the piers where the ocean going ships docked. He climbed three sets of stairs and went through a door in a small apartment. 

"Hello my darling" the attractive blonde woman greeted him.

"Hello Charlotte" Lennon replied as his mistress walked across the room to him. They embraced and he kissed her full on her lips. His hands slid down her back to the delicious ripeness of the full, rounded cheeks of her sumptipous ass. As he had ordered she was completely naked.

"Make love to me Fairfax" she whispered into his ear as she felt his hardness growing against her belly.

He picked her up and carried the slim, nineteen year old woman across the room, through a door and into a bedroom that was lit by just a single candle. He gently laid her in the middle of the bed and stood alongside it as he removed his outer shirt, vest, trousers and boots. Charlotte watched fascinated and very excited as her lover slid his hands into waist of his drawers. Despite their bagginess the outline of his erection was very clear and the girl shuddered at the thought of it inside her once again. She shuddered even more as it came into sight.

"Oh God sir you are so handsome" she groaned as Lennon joined her on the bed. She wanted to say 'God you have a handsome cock Fairfax' but feared that would be too forward and unwise. He kissed her, gently cupped and squeezed her pert breasts and pinched her unusually long and very dark coloured, almost brown nipples, which he adored. Charlotte sighed with contentment as he sent such wonderful sensations through her slender body. His hand slid down from her bosom across her narrow waist and flat stomach and onto her blonde haired pubic mound. His fingers found both her clitoris and her lips and he rubbed then softly as they continued to kiss.

"May I?" She whispered reaching for Lennon's manhood

"Not just now" he replied as he slithered his head down her body to where his fingers had now slid inside the young woman.

Charlotte again felt herself shudder with expectancy as she realised what he was going to do. She had summed up to her closest friend. 'His tongue is a marvel, it's like a snake!'

Lennon loved orally attending to a woman's genitalia, more so oddly than he enjoyed them attending to his. Removing his fingers from the girl he licked the length of her slit and then probed the 'pink petals' of skin with the tip of his tongue until the folds parted. He found that most sensitive place and after licking and probing it with his tongue he took the stalk of gristle between his teeth and gently bit it. That gave Charlotte her first climax. She moaned and sighed as her body jerked and convulsed, but Lennon didn't stop although he used his tongue more gently as Charlotte went through the various stages of her orgasm.

As she came down from the heights of sensation so Lennon pulled on her body.

"Turn over my love" he whispered cuddling her slim body to his as she turned onto her front. "Raise up" he said pulling on her hips.

Charlotte wondered whether Lennon was going to bugger her. He had never asked or insisted on that, but recently had shown far more interest in that part of her body and she felt that sooner or later he would want her ass; after all wasn't that why men like the General had a mistress? As she was still anally a virgin the idea scared her a little, but it also excited her. 

Although giving him pleasure rewarded her she did not at all look forward to being penetrated in that place so she was relieved when he did not kneel and move his cock towards her. Instead, Lennon patiently positioned his youngest mistress so that she was on her knees with her head resting on her forearms and her long blond tresses tumbling onto the bed. Her upper legs were not at right angles to the feather stuffed mattress, but were nearer to being at forty five degrees and they were slightly parted. He wriggled his way so that he was behind her, he sat up straight with his legs through hers and he gripped her slim, yet womanly flared hips. He moved his hands so that he was gripping her beautifully rounded cheeks and gently pulled them apart. Although it was dim in the bedroom there was sufficient light for Lennon to see the puckered darker, almost brown skin surrounding the girl's anus, it looked delicious and amazingly erotic. Opening his mouth and poking his tongue out the General moved his face forward until the tip of his tongue pressed against Charlotte's asshole. The sensation was strong for both of them and she grunted and jerked her body. Lennon released some spittle from his mouth and lubricated the star-shaped orifice. Slowly yet persistently he probed at it gradually manoeuvring the tip of his tongue slightly inside. He pressed more firmly and moved a hand between Charlotte's legs again finding and stimulating her lips and clitoris. Her body was now aflame with sensations and her climax began. She was panting and moaning as she felt something replace his tongue. Realising that it was his finger she panicked a little as she felt it pressing against the closed, but fully lubricated hole. Quickly and as gently as it could be done he slipped his forefinger inside that tight crevice.

"Oh God no" the girl moaned as a searing pain shot through her.

"Shush my darling it will soon be gone."

He was correct and the pain that had filled her lower torso was replaced with a warmth and a sexual sensation that was so strong yet so different to when her front passage was entered.

"Now my lovely young lady I want you to climax by having your ass finger fucked."

Charlotte did precisely that as Lennon loved her ass and thought about the prisoner whose fingers he had broken earlier that evening. He needed no more help from his mistress to spurt his spunk over his flat belly.

* 

Following the delightful tea that Amelia's staff produced for Amanda the two women got to know each other very well. They met for tea or lunch quite often and dinner occasionally although that was always at the Embassy or Amanda's house, for two women dining together in public was severely frowned upon by Washington's society. 

Despite the fifteen years age gap they became closer and closer and soon they were confidantes. Amelia told her that all was not good with her marriage and Amanda explained about her break from Samuel.

"He just couldn't resist younger women."

"Yes I know."

"What?"

"He propositioned me several times."

"The devil, but then my dear he did so many others" Amanda replied as they both laughed.

"So you and the General Amanda, how is that going?" Amelia asked one afternoon when they were in the bungalow in the grounds of the Embassy having tea.

"It has its moments" Amanda replied rather vacantly looking at her friend who had dispensed with her hoop and voluminous skirt and was wearing a simple pale lemon coloured, shift dress and clearly no corset. Having had to travel across town by carriage, Amanda was more formal, but was wearing a smaller hoop than she would in the evening. 

"God it is so hot" she said fanning herself.

"You must be uncomfortable my dear, why don't you slip out of your dress and hoops?

Amanda was slightly taken aback by the suggestion. Whilst it was not unusual for teenage girls when together to remove their outer garments it was not something that women were prone to do, although it was not unheard of.

"Are you sure Amelia?"

"Oh yes Amanda I have no issue with it and the heat is oppressive. Pray use my dressing room" she said pointing to the far end of the building and calling out as Amanda moved towards the corridor leading to the dressing room. "And your corset as well if you desire."

" 'twould be such bliss ma'am, but I do not have my maid to assist me."

"Then Amanda I shall be your maid."

*

The now single de Bow had moved permanently to Washington. This was ostensibly to oversee the Census Service, but there was another much more impelling reason behind the move. Having run the Service most successfully for several years during which time he had considerably widened its scope he had almost resigned from the post last year after he had divorced his third wife. It was his desire for Amanda Williams that persuaded him to continue as head of the Census for that meant he had to be based in Washington.

It was a week or so after the White House reception where she had been Lennon's partner that de Bow arrived back in the Capital. This was after a fleeting trip to New Orleans to settle some affairs and make arrangements for his extensive property and the printing presses to be looked after; he didn't intend returning to New Orleans to live.

Immediately he arrived back in Washington he sent Amanda a handwritten note inviting her to dinner. He completed the invitation with:

I am so desperate to see you again my dear Amanda that I respectfully ask you to offer me a date for dinner at your most earliest juncture.

Your friend and ardent admirer

James

He settled back into the house the government provided for him in the grounds of Georgetown University that he was thrilled to note was just a short stroll from where Amanda was renting. 

Although Amanda had no intentions as far as de Bow was concerned for, despite their differences, she believed she was in love with Lennon and that her future was with him, she was excited to receive de Bow's rather presumptuous and flirtatious invitation. She knew that she should not appear to be too eager and that proper etiquette suggested that she offer a date a few days hence. That would portray not only a lack of eagerness on her part, but also would imply that she had a full diary. Whilst often that was the case, the height of summer heat in the Capital always reduced the amount of social activity, with many people moving to summer houses in Virginia and Maryland. Additionally Amelia had invited her to visit her and Richard at their country home in the Potomac Hills near McLean and Amanda was planning to leave the capital in a few day' time. She penned her reply carefully.

My dear James,

Thank you for your very pleasant note and welcome back to Washington. 

As you will know far better than I this time of summer is quite out of season as many diplomats and government people are enjoying the freshness of their country homes. As a result I do find myself with an early date of tomorrow available in my diary and am pleased to offer that to you.

Do let me soonest if that is convenient.

Yours sincerely

Amanda

After a few more exchanges of notes the arrangements had been made. 

Preparing herself for the dinner, Amanda felt nervous and excited. 'There is something about him' she told herself. 'Something that sits so comfortably with me.' 

Deep down she was vaguely aware that it was two things, although she was loathe to admit them to herself. 

Firstly it was his rakish reputation. For a reason she couldn't comprehend his marital record and the number of women who it was alleged he had been with interested and excited her. It was the opportunity, the challenge and the thrill of taming such a man that excited many women including her. It was a similar situation that older women have about younger men, although that does not include taming, but teaching.

The second was more about attraction. Amanda was a highly intelligent, worldly-wise and thoughtful person. For a woman she was well-educated and she had had many life-enriching experiences. On her travels to the North and to England and Europe she had been exposed to a wide array people and cultures. That had taught her a great deal. It had also made her treasure and admire intelligence and thoughtfulness. She considered de Bow to be amongst the most intelligent and intellectual men she had ever met. He had what to her was a unique portfolio of skills being both highly numerate and literate creating in him a hugely intellectual approach; to Amanda that was a powerful aphrodisiac.

Clad in one of her 'European' cut dresses she waited in her house for James to arrive in his carriage. She had chosen a white silk bodice with black trimmings and a black skirt, hooped of course, with white trimmings. It was low cut at the front with white lace comfortably covering all of her areolae although most of each of the upper swells of her full breasts were on view. Amanda had utilised a seamstress to stitch a wider edging of lace onto many of her dresses for the European fashion was to expose the top of each areola, a vogue that was yet to reach the more august Americans.

Waiting for de Bow to arrive she resolved to be very careful indeed. 'There must not be another William Ableforce' she told herself her mind going back the six months or so to that train journey from Greenville to Charlotte.

"Good evening Missus Williams" James said rather formally as Milly, Amanda's maid and Hilda her newly appointed housekeeper stood to one side as Amanda swept down the wide staircase. 

"Good evening sir, it is so nice to see you again" Amanda replied looking at James and smiling. He looked very dapper and dashing in his charcoal-grey, tailed jacket, paler grey and black checked, stove-pipe trousers, white waistcoat and grey and white striped bow tie. Amanda noted with a degree of admiration that his white shirt was starched, a recent fashion in America, but one that had been in vogue in London and Paris for years. She took his proffered hand and felt a little shiver run through her as he bowed almost to the waist and kissed the back of it.

"I trust you are keeping well and coping with the heat madam."

"Yes thank you sir I am, but it is tiresome although hailing from Georgia I am somewhat used to it" she smiled back.

They chatted easily in the carriage on the short journey to the newly opened Willard Dining Room at the junction of Pennsylvania Avenue and M Street. The restaurant featured a large, brightly lit main room with a series of banquettes along both sides and at the far end from the entrance and kitchen a number of private booths that shielded the occupants from the gaze of the other diners. Being acutely aware of Amanda's relationship with Fairfax and knowing that so recently she had 'been on his arm' at the White House James had instructed the groom to take the carriage round to the rear of the building to the private room entrance for that avoided them meeting other diners or passing through the restaurant. The private area in which Amanda and James dined was luxurious, dimly lit and very intimate.

During dinner they covered many topics including de Bow's decision to sign a new agreement as Head of the Census.

"It is most noble of you James and very public spirited to do that."

"No Amanda" he replied as they ate the delicious guinea fowl with sweet potatoes and root vegetables

"Pray sir what to do mean?"

James was about to say it was to be near her, but held back and diverted the subject slightly.

"Regrettably ma'am it prevents you visiting New Orleans for some time."

Amanda smiled. "My considerable omission James, I was looking forward to visiting the great city."

"But then every cloud has a silver lining Amanda" he said very quietly as he inched his hand across the crisp, white linen tablecloth so their fingers nearly touched. Amanda glanced at them and momentarily hoped he would place his hand on hers.

"And that is James?" She replied equally quietly.

"For me ma'am I do not have the inconsolable wait for you to make the journey and we can meet any time."

"Hmmm, can we sir?"

"Indeed we can, is there a reason we can't?" James asked, fishing for news on her relationship with Fairfax Lennon. He plucked up the courage and placed the tips of his fingers on Amanda's fingernails. She looked down then up again and their gazes met.

"Er no, not all" Amanda whispered.

"Then perhaps we could have lunch tomorrow."

"That may be somewhat hasty James."

"I beg your pardon Amanda, I am sorry for the haste, but I am....... oh sorry" James said very uncharacteristically hesitating and mumbling.

"Pray sir what is it?"

Placing his hand on the back of Amanda's and gripping it de Bow blurted out. "Amanda I am smitten surely that is obvious."

"Not at all sir" she replied enjoying him holding her hand and feeling a shudder of excitement rush through her on hearing the news.

"Well I have to inform you ma'am that I am well and truly smitten by you, by your mind, your looks, your manner and....................." he paused as his roamed down her chest. "By your body."

"Oh my grace sir that is er, um a shock. You can be so forward."

"Yes ma'am I can, but only when inspired."

"Inspired James, pray whatever do you mean?"

"It is the reason Amanda" de Bow said gripping both her hands. "Why I decided to continue with the task of the census for that keeps me here in Washington, near you."

"Really James?"

The soft tap in the door stopped the conversation going any further.

"So when Amanda may we meet again?" de Bow asked as the carriage transported them away from the restaurant towards Amanda's rented house.

She explained that she was travelling into Virginia to stay with Viscount and Viscountess Lyons in a few days' time and that she was very busy before then.

"Presumably some of it with General Lennon?"

"Yes that is a possibility."

Turning to face her on the narrow seat most of which was taken up Amanda's huge hooped skirt he said.

"I implore you Amanda be very careful with that man."

Smiling she turned her face towards him and replied. "That's a coincidence sir for he said very much the same about you."

"But then he would my dear, for we are rivals for your affections aren't we?"

"Are you really?" Amanda asked feeling excited at broaching the sensitive subject as she watched de Bow lean forward.

"Indeed we are Amanda in every way."

His face was close to hers, he was holding her hand and his leg was pressed against hers through the skirt. He repeated the phrase, very softly as his face closed the gap between them. Amanda realised that events were turning out in a very similar way to those with young Ableforce back in the spring, but this time she felt more receptive. So as de Bow's mouth met hers and as his tongue probed at her lips Amanda opened her mouth and invited it inside.

James felt wonderful and so relieved. He was kissing the woman he so admired and wanted and it was by no means the demure kiss of friendship nor was there any sign of her being an unwilling participant. Their mouths squirmed together with the passion of would be lovers as James' hand found the fullness of Amanda's breast inside the thin, silk bodice.




Savannah All Tied Up



Led blindfolded and quivering into an unknown chamber of her host's mansion, Savannah began to have second thoughts (and third and fourth). What did she really know about this man? Except that he was enormously rich, handsome, and that they had shared one night of mind-blowing sex? It had been the next morning, her body pleasantly sated and feeling quite mellow, that he'd extended his shocking invitation. At first she had declined, but he had been so charming and persuasive, and after the night they shared she thought that perhaps there would be more of the same. After only another ten more minutes of discussion had she agreed.

And so here she was, in a huge mansion in the Connecticut countryside, blindfolded, her wrists manacled with slave bracelets. Her feet were yet unfettered. In her mind she tried to envision the room she might be entering. Her overactive imagination conjured medieval racks and assorted torture devices. Banishing those thoughts she told herself again that Michael had assured her she would not be harmed during this sexual encounter, or any others she chose to participate in over the weekend. Taking a deep calming breath, she forced herself to relax. This was supposed to be pleasurable, not torturous.

Michael's hands guided her into a chamber; she could tell because a blast of warm heat curled around her chilled body. Not five minutes ago he'd awoken her in her bed and told her the time was at hand. All she had on was a thin nightgown. She had not been allowed to don slippers or robe, and had been told that she would be warm again when they arrived at their destination. Savannah relaxed yet some more when she was eased down onto a soft surface. "One moment", said Michael. She felt him move away and heard the striking of a match, and then the soft floral odor of incense. She smiled now with anticipation.

He came back to her, gently bringing her to her feet, and they were walking again. Turning her, he grabbed her wrists. Hearing the rattling of keys, she thought that she would now be able to touch him. But as soon as her hands were free, he moved the left outward from her body and suddenly her left wrist was manacled once again. Gasping with shock, it was a few moments before she realized her other wrist was similarly restrained. "What's going on?" she squeaked. "It's all right", he replied, "you will not be harmed", and she was reassured. But then, in the next moment, she felt a tug, and then he was tearing her beautiful nightgown from her body, leaving her exposed. Before she could panic, he wrapped his arms around her and crooned in her ear, "Settle down". He held her a few more moments until she was once again calm. 

He gently urged her legs apart, and manacled them apart as well. It was not at all uncomfortable; all the manacles were padded. His clothes rustled as he moved away, and she heard a drawer open and shut. Then he was back. A soft scent floated to her, the scent of berries. Michael's hands were upon her, rubbing oil into her neck, her shoulders, and back. Slowly he worked the oil into her skin, her muscles relaxed and supple, and she sighed her pleasure. His hands moved lower, and more oil was applied to her tight ass cheeks. He lifted and separated the full globes, and he worked the oil closer to her puckered hole. A finger slid into her, and she moaned. That dexterous finger worked in her anal passage, stroking fast and shallow, then slow and deep. A second, then third finger joined in, stretching her hole further, and finally accommodated a fourth finger. She was near full now, and she rolled her hips backwards, wanting those fingers to delve more deeply. Right then those fingers left her, and before she could groan with disappointment, she felt something much larger entering her ass. 

At first she thought it might be his cock, but then he moved and he was before her, his chest hair rubbing her breasts. She realized he had inserted some sort of butt plug or dildo into her. She felt an elasticized rope wrap around the front to her belly, and heard a snap. He had secured it firmly to her, so it would not shift and be expelled. Again, she felt those hands on her rubbing oil into her skin. Along her collarbone, under her arms, and then spent an inordinate amount of time focused on her breasts. He squeezed them together, rubbing the two mounds together, and occasionally felt the flicker of his tongue tease her nipples. She sighed, she quivered, she moaned. She came! Just that easy, her body clenched and tightened, and exploded with pleasure. She heard Michael chuckle his approval at her orgasm, and smiled. She knew there would be more to come (pun intended), and eagerly looked forward to the next step. 

Those magical hands continued their pleasurable work, now rubbing oil into her hips, along her flanks, and worked downward to her feet, completely ignoring the pleasure point between her legs. The wicked man was teasing her. No, why, he was torturing her! Her breathing turned rapid and desperate. She needed to feel him touch her pussy. She was drenched with her need; she could feel her juice along her inner thighs. Finally, finally, he made his way back up. His hands left her body once again, and she nearly howled her frustration. She heard something scrape along the floor, something heavy, like furniture maybe. His hands grabbed her waist firmly, and then she was being lifted ever so slightly. When she was lowered her feet touched wood. A stool of some kind, about a foot off the ground she estimated. Her legs were still secured firmly apart from each other. The door to the chamber opened, letting some chill air in and causing goose bumps along her flesh.

She felt Michael's hands on her again. A confused moment later she realized there were two sets of hands on her body! One set rubbed her breasts, played with them, tweaking the nipples. Another hand roamed along her thighs, teasingly brushing along the cleft of her pussy. Every time she clenched in reaction, her inner muscles squeezed down on the plug planted firmly in her ass. She pushed her pelvis forward, hoping whoever was touching her down there would stroke her clit more firmly, but they always stayed soft upon her, teasing her. And then she felt a tongue begin licking her inner thighs, moving inexorably inward and upward toward her soaked pussy. But every time she tilted her hips eagerly toward that tongue, it retreated. Michael ordered her, "stay still", and reluctantly she did as she was told. 

After a time that tongue did reach her sensitized and swollen clit. She moaned in exquisite agony as teeth scraped on her clit, and then lips sucked strongly, bringing forth a loud wail of pleasure. That busy mouth was soon joined by two fingers thrusting strongly and deeply up into her pussy, and her muscles clenched down on them. Her ass quivered at the action, and she moaned again. The fingers stroked faster and faster, the tongue lashing against her clit furiously. She felt Michael's strong hands grasp her ass cheeks in both hands, squeezing them together tightly around the plug. She wondered then who was eating her and finger fucking her so greedily below. That mouth and tongue devoured her, and now she felt four fingers thrusting deeply in her snatch. Behind her, she heard Michael's breath accelerate, his whispers encouraging the unknown person to feast on her. She felt Michael nip the back of her neck, and he sucked strongly on her flesh. There would be a mark in the morning. He rubbed his now naked body along her backside, and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his aroused dick against her ass.

Her senses overloaded, Savannah's second orgasm rushed upon her, and she screamed like a woman demented, long and loud. "Fuck me," she begged. Michael growled a definite "no" behind her. His hands came forward, his fingers pinched her nipples. The unknown mouth and fingers left her pussy, and she felt Michael move away. He came around to face her, and hugged her, telling her that she was "a good girl". He kissed her passionately, his tongue thrusting wildly into her, and before she had a chance to respond he moved away. "It is time you refreshed yourself", he said, and undid the manacles. "Do not take off the blindfold", he commanded, and led her to a connecting door into a bathroom. "Hurry", he urged, and Savannah, now more than willing to do whatever he asked, hurried!

She was manacled once again; only they had removed whatever stool she had been standing on earlier. And she was alone. It had been some time since Michael had left her there, and her overactive imagination was at work again. What would they do to her next? The plug was still attached, making its presence known deep in her ass. Once in a while, her muscles would quiver around it, and little darts of pleasure would shoot along her nerve endings. Mini orgasms, she named them. It could be worse, she supposed. However, by now, she was more than ready to trust that Michael would not harm her. So far, he had given her nothing but pleasure.

The door opened. "Michael'? She queried. No one responded. Feet padded across the floor to where she was tied up. Soft hands massaged her arms and legs, easing the knots that had formed there. She was thankful as they had become increasingly sore. Her stiff muscles eased and she relaxed. And then a body, an undeniably naked, female body, rubbed up against her. Soft lips played at her mouth, and Savannah was uncertain how to respond. She and Tanya had had sex on many occasions, but she had never had sex with any other female before. Uncertain what to expect, she remained still and unmoving. Those lips glided along her face, her cheekbones, her nose, and then down along her neck, nipping gently from time to time. Soft palms grazed her nipples in a clockwise motion, bringing them to hard peaks. They began to tingle. The woman moaned as she touched Savannah, and she decided to go with it.

And then the woman was at her pussy, licking, nibbling, sucking, and darting in and out of her pussy. Her hips rolled, and she wished she could grab the woman's head to guide her the way she liked it. "Oh, oh right there, yes, yes, just like that", she said. She began to perspire, pleasure hummed through her body. Fingers played with her nipples as that wonderful mouth and tongue continued their sensual assault. Their breaths mingled, grew heavy and panting. She felt her body float upwards, and realized that someone else was in the room. She stood on tip-toe now, her body stretched. The woman stood, and Savannah heard a rustling, a clicking sound. Then she felt something hard probe at the opening of her pussy. The very tip of a dildo penetrated her, but it was a very broad tip. Thankfully it seemed to be well lubricated. It drove further inward, heavily pressing upward into her tight cunt. Along the front of her body she felt the woman pressing against her. The woman had a strap-on, and was fucking her. Her mind reeled. She and Tanya had never done anything like it before.

Those hands rested on her hips, and she pushed further inward and upward, and in one strong motion, buried that dildo inside her pussy. Savannah's leg muscles quivered with strain as she stood there on tip-toe, and that strap-on dildo fucked her relentlessly. The woman's body slapped against her, mashing her clit. Savannah eagerly pounded back at her, their slick bodies now rubbing each other, increasing the friction more and more. The woman's voice came to her. "Yeah, baby, you like that don't you? My body against yours? Me fucking you? Does it feel good? Want me to fuck you harder, baby?" She kept talking to her, telling her what she would do to her. Savannah moaned her agreement, pleaded with her. "More, please, harder", and the woman did. They kissed wildly, their tongues wrapping around each other, and Savannah sucked at it, bringing it deeper into her mouth.

Michael came up from behind her, and he unsnapped the butt plug; one arm anchored itself around her waist, while his other hand quickly removed the butt plug from her ass. It dropped to the floor. He rubbed his hard cock along the crevice of her ass cheeks, and Savannah moaned into the woman's mouth. Dragging her mouth away, she gasped, "Pleassssse". Spreading her cheeks apart with his free hand, he pushed the head of his cock just barely inside her ass. He was well lubed, so it was an easy glide. Slowly he delved deeper and deeper, until the full length of his cock was imbedded in her ass. Sensation upon sensation cascaded over her. His cocked pumped fast and furious in her ass, his hips time and time again slamming into her. Each thrust lifted her off the ground. His savage fucking thrilled her. She was incoherent with pleasure. Her ass being fucked. Her pussy being pounded. A hard male chest at her back. A woman's breasts rubbing her breasts in front. Slick bodies moved against her, the sounds of slapping flesh echoed in the room.

Their breathing grew harsh in effort and lust; Savannah could not stop moaning. Or begging for more. She needed more. She needed it deeper, faster, harder. Her muscles quivered with the effort to strive for her goal. Michael's teeth grabbed onto her neck, like an animal, and would not let go. His continuous bite only added to her pleasure. He growled against her skin, his hips pumped faster, less controlled now. Soon, he would pour his hot cum inside her ass, filling her. Savannah craved it. Her body began its own rush toward climax. Her pussy and ass muscles clenched harder on the hard tools invading her. She leaned forward and kissed the woman, their excited moans and breaths filling each other. The woman screamed as she came, and pounded more frantically into Savannah.

She felt the hot rush of cum fill her ass, some of it leaking out there was so much of it! Still they pounded into her, even harder than before. Her pussy seized, her ass puckered tighter, and her climax rushed through her like a potent drug. Every inch of her throbbed with it, and she felt her own juices rush outward, trailing on her thighs. Ecstasy. She moaned at the intensity of the almost painful orgasm. Fire roared through her veins. And as she came down, she felt hands rub along her, calming her. The manacles at her ankles and wrists were undone, and Michael's arms caught her as her weak legs gave way. Softer hands removed the blindfold, and Savannah blinked at the intruding light. Her eyes gradually adjusted, and as she felt herself being lowered she looked to see who the woman was. A beautiful girl, a few years older than herself maybe, with bright red hair, elfin chin and nose, and a wide generous mouth smiled at her. Her beautifully pale body glistened and shimmered in the candle light. Her firm plump breasts swayed as she leaned down to gently kiss her on the mouth. And then the woman left her alone with Michael, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She now lay on a fur laden bed and Michael cam down to rest along side her. He grinned devilishly at her, propped on his elbow, and let his hands roam along her body. He leaned down and licked a drop of sweat off the tip of one pert nipple, and then sucked the nipple into his mouth. She felt her body tighten again with anticipation and was amazed. She though for sure that she would be too tired for sex anytime soon, but it seemed as if she were wrong. Her body obviously had other days. Laughing wickedly, she grabbed for his cock. This was going to be the most exciting weekend ever. She couldn't wait to see what would happen next.