GOOD BREEDING Read Free Page B

quickly, sliding out of her and leaving her bereft, her anus puckering closed once more in its wake.
    The captain tossed a handful of coins onto the table as she hur riedly donned her dress again . Two men, two loads of hot spunk and hardly an ounce of pleasure for herself. She was desperate to get back to her own little cupboard of a cabin and use her hands to accomplish what neither man had. She could feel cooling sperm oozing down the backs of her thighs in any case and needed a towel.
    “You have a fine body, Phyllis,” the captain told her as she scooped up her coins. “On the plantations you know, a serving woman with an arse and tits like yours, whatever her colour will inevitably find herself the object of male desires. And some of those might be quite extreme.”
    “Yes captain, thank you!” she panted as she slipped out of his cabin, ran a few feet down the companionway and slipped into her own cabin, having to press herself against her cot to close the door, but fumbling her skirts up as soon as she had managed it. Thank God the growing heat in the last two weeks of the voyage had made underwear uncomfortable and unhealthy. In only a few seconds her hand was fumbling in the sweaty and slimy heat of her groin, her fingers diving upwards to stir her sodden cunt into eagerly awaited action while her thumb rubbed viciously hard at her clitoris, she bared her teeth in a grimace of urgency as she rasped and frigged herself to an orgasm that was purely a functional one, one that would do until something better came along. As she slumped against the cabin wall she smiled at the memory of the captain’s warning.
    “Male desires……..quite extreme.” Oh yes. She was counting on it, and so was Adam Bestwood . She closed her eyes as her breathing steadied and confused images of Clara Bestwood’s face, cruelly sneering slave drivers and Mr Bestwood’s cock swam through her mind interlaced with visions of riding whips and the cruel stockwhips she had seen slave drivers carry in Bristol.

 

     
     

    Chapter Three
     
     
    On the quay si de Adam introduced Clara and Phyllis to Sir Archibald and Lady Stuart. Archie was an old friend – a man in his late fifties who had been driven into the colonies by the same problems that Adam was suffering from; gambling debts. He had prospered out here and when creditors began hounding Adam , it was to Archie he had turned and h ad been offered a post on the Jacaranda estate. Archie was a tall, spare man with white hair and his wife was considerably younger than him and quite a beauty in her own right. Adam kissed the hand he was offered and looked deep into the green eyes that appraised him with unusual openness and almost blatant speculation.
    “I’ve heard a great deal about you,” she said with a smile and Adam glanced across at Archie who laughed.
    “I’ve told her you’re a swordsman of great renown,” he said.
    “And they’re always welcome out here in the colonies,” his wife added, giving him a smile that left him in no doubt that everything that Archie had told him about the way women were treated out here was perfectly true.
    With Phyllis following behind in the second coach with all the luggage, they set off for the estate and Adam watched his beautiful young wife taking in every detail of the scenery as they passed. It was colourful and chaotic with a dozen languages being spoken and shouted around a harbour that smelled of tar and fish and spices. People dressed in ragged but brightly coloured clothes, some of the black women even had their arms bare he noticed.
     
    A month later, Clara was slowly beginning to come to terms with everything. She had been deeply shocked at the lack of clothing on some of the slaves but had at the same time been unable to look away from some of the superbly muscled male specimens she had seen with just short white trousers and sun hats on as they laboured in the fields. Sir Archibald’s house was magnificent and Lady