protection in your bed as the ship's owner.'
'And yet the range of her perversities?'
'I added, sir, that you were a man who could not endure the same form of pleasure twice in a week with any girl. Unless she could devise variety, you would be sure to send her away.'
I could not but chuckle at the ingenious fellow, for Julie was just stupid enough to believe such a tale.
'And the Captain?' I asked.
'Well, Mr. Charles,' said he, 'I separately informed Noreen that she was in the gravest danger: you had conceived a murderous resentment against her for her betrayal of you. Now that you were absolute master, a dreadful fate lay in store for her: you would have her brought to your cabin, and there two monstrous Arab emissaries would use her day and night, rending her cunt and sodomising her bottom with grievous results. The lash would also be applied pitilessly to her backside. After two days and two nights, the more brutal of the two emissaries would take a stout cord, tighten it slowly 'round her throat, and her lifeless corpse would be pushed out through the porthole.'
'How readily you malign me!' I said, smiling.
'Indeed, sir. I informed Noreen that her last hope was to seek refuge in the Captain's bed and never emerge from his cabin. Whatever his demands- however extreme-she must comply with them to the letter or else be turned away and fall victim to your revenge.'
We laughed heartily over this and then parted. To tell the truth, I sought a respite from Julie's advances and had just decided to appoint Maggie as my cabin-girl. That night, however, there was a terrible outcry and sounds of a struggle. I heard a shout that the Captain's arm had been broken, and then another voice adding that Noreen had done it deliberately. It seemed at first to contradict the very basis of the inspector's plan. Yet, as luck would have it, Noreen had been lurking nearby and had heard every word of his explanation to me! Furious at what she had submitted to without need, she had revenged herself violently upon the captain of the Brandon.
Here was a pretty pickle! The ship was in no danger, but it was clear that we could not permit mutiny to go unpunished. The Captain claimed his right to mete out retribution. With his right arm bound up, this seemed absurd. Yet he confided to us that he wished merely to give Noreen a stern lecture.
Knowing Noreen, we could not approve the leniency-or its wisdom. Yet the Captain was her victim and, as such, privileged to choose. Next day, on the eve of which she was to be scolded, the firmly built, nineteen-year-old trollop showed no remorse. Her first duty was to swab the deck on all fours with bucket and cloth. The Captain looked on. How tight the jeans strained over the strapping young cheeks of Noreen's bottom! Sensing his presence, she sat back. With a shake of her fringe, she stared with all the insolence her pale features and brown eyes could express. There was so sign of repentance whatever.
That evening, our two stewards, Karim and Saleh, escorted her to the Captain's cabin. The poor fellow sat on a comfortable chair and chose to have Noreen strapped face down over his lap for the scolding. For safety's sake, they pinioned her securely so that she could hardly twitch a muscle. The Captain looked down and saw the two cheeks of Noreen's arse, tightly sheathed in denim, facing up towards him. Down came the jeans, and the conversation turned to the subject of Noreen's knickers!
Noreen's knickers were, it seemed, of the tightest, briefest cotton. The Captain expressed interest at such tight, scanty encasing of the sturdy, full-cheeked backside of a strapping young trollop, as he habitually termed her. Noreen's knickers came down too. It was, of course, necessary to prevent her answering back during the scolding. The still warm cot-tom, carefully folded and secured, made an admirable bridle.
Now he was alone with her. We listened intently. A match flared and the Captain drew gently at a rich Havana. 'I shall scold you now, Noreen, for quite half an hour. Ah, there is nothing like a choice cheroot for bringing the roses to a pair of pale cheeks! Keep that backside of yours quite still, if you please! Why, I vow you would break your straps if they were any less stout than they are! Such determination, Noreen!'
It seemed the ship's cat must be trapped in there somewhere. Surely it was a shrill feline mewing which obscured some of the Captain's words, as we clustered outside the door to listen! He seemed to smile as he spoke, as if his injury had become amusing to him.
'Your first taste of ordeal by a glowing cheroot, Noreen? Ah, those strapping, nineteen-year-old bottom-cheeks of yours! How many men have admired them in tight denim, as you worked on all fours at your polishing! Did you reward their admiration by a flick of your dark fringe and a cold stare? Then how those gentlemen would love to be in my place now!'
There came the dry squeak of leather strained in vain.
'An ardent caress on the crown of your left-hand arse-cheek to begin, Noreen! Ah, does that make your toes curl? You would burst our eardrums were it not for the wadding! A moment to draw the Havana to brightness. Now we can rouge you as daringly as we like on your arse-cheeks, Noreen, since they are not the ones you display to the world!'
The feline mewing made his next remark inaudible. Then we heard his voice once more.
'A moment to brush away the grey blemish of ash, Noreen! And now the ardent red touched to your pale bottom-cheek once more… Ah, what a soprano aria you would sing if you could, Noreen!… So deep a blush already… Do you try to turn the other cheek in order to spare this one? So desperate already, Noreen, to feel the vital glow on the other side? Have no fear, its turn shall come. First, let us tap the ash and draw. A little more touching-up on this cheek first. We must rouge it quite outrageously!'
His words were lost to us for a moment. Then he said presently, 'Dare we highlight the dark valley between the snow hills, Noreen? Let us be bold! The red glow marks our trace along that rear valley's lower slope. I hear a zephyr blow rudely, do I not? Such high notes, Noreen. An encore is imperative! Now we ascend the second bottom-hill, as yet so pale… Those stout, leather straps will not break, Noreen. Resign yourself to that! A fall of powdered grey and now the touch of ardent cherry red. Such is the penalty of violence, Noreen! After this you shall be my obedient cabin-girl!'
So it proved, showing the power of scolding over a trollop!
Tomorrow we sight land, they say. Every hour brings closer
Your own adoring Charlie
LETTER 11
My dearest Lizzie,
As a postscript to my epistle written on board ship, I send this briefest of notes to tell you that I am now safely arrived on the continent which holds within it your own sweet self! How long it will be before I see you again, I dare not say. It may be many weeks or, by a happy chance, I may overtake this very letter with the wings of adoration! It depends much on the disposal of my 'cargo' and the state of my late Uncle Brandon's affairs here.
I will, however, regale you a moment with the events of the last night of our voyage. The inspector, who has now quite deserted his post in England for some more lucrative employment here among the traders, continued in his role of master of ceremonies. He devised what he promised would be a Rabelesian banquet for our final dinner: the best food, the finest vintages, and a bevy of nude damsels to attend to our every desire! You may well believe that not one of his invitations was declined! The result was both inexpressibly randy and yet comic at the same time.
We entered the main saloon with its silks and cut glass. I vow, Lizzie, I experienced a combination of sensations unknown to me before: a stiffening penis and a desire to roar with laughter. Separately, these are common enough. Together, they must be rare indeed.
Ahead of me was the banquet table at which the inspector, the Captain, and I were to sit. It consisted of a light, wooden surface, some six feet long and two feet across, and a hole cut in the middle through which the lighting column rose. What is so curious, then, you ask? The table was supported at either end, not by legs but on the backs of two figures kneeling on all fours. Well, you say, such carvings are not unusual. Ah, but these were not carved figures. The nude flesh of Maggie and Noreen was more succulently moulded! The stools over which they were strapped supported them in turn and the tabletop was secured by a harness 'round their waists and shoulders.
