The Captain’s Bride by abroadsword

Captain Beckinthwaite’s Bride.

I’m Captain Thomas bloody Beckinthwaite, from bloody Yorkshire and I don’t give a bugger what you bloody think because I bloody speak as I bloody find.

We had a bloody bad trip back from America on Steamship and when we got back to Liverpool I made sure me brass were safe and went to see bloody Agent first thing.

I went in his office.It stunk like a Tarts boudoir with furnishings to match. Agent were a Slimy bastard with slicked down hair and poncy suit. He sat behind this over polished bloody oakwood bloody desk about the size of a bloody cricket wicket the useless bastard.

“Good day Captain, I am delighted to meet you at last,” he simpered wi’out standing up.

“No thee bloody ent,” I said, “Thee jus wants me brass,” I answered him, “I’m from bloody Yorksire and I speaks me bloody mind,” I explained to the ignorant Lancashire twat.

“Er, yes, the brass,” he said awkwardly.

“Ton and a half of it,” I said, “Dubloons, pieces of eight, that sort of brass.”

“We thought you meant Brass,” his assistant chipped in. She was like a short haired gorilla in a black dress with a gob like a bulldog chewing a wasp.

“Brass, Money,” I said, “Bloody simple enough even for you bloody ignorant Lanky buggers ent it?”

“Brass is an alloy of Copper and Tin,” she ventured.

“Clever bitch eh, need to be with a gob like yours,” I advised, “Ent going to get far wi your bloody looks and that’s a bloody fact..

“How much were you asking?” the slimy one asked.

I told him, showed him chit for it.

“Yes we will pay the asking price,” the slimy bastard said rooking me, “The cheque please Miss Rathbone.” and they give me it and it were done.

I nipped round bank and paid it in quick. Daft bastard on counter near fainted at size of cheque but I drew out a fair few quid and went about me business.

Fifteen bloody days voyage took, bloody steamship broke down on the way but at last I had some brass in bank and could come home instead of scratting round down South America way meking a bob or two here an there.

I went to see Harbour master what were a mate of mine, we had a chat for a few minutes then I asked “Where’s slave market, I fancies a nice plump fresh brown one.”

“By heck you been away a bloody while,” he said, “Thee casn’t have slaves in England any more.”

“You what?” I demanded.

“Nay,” He said, “They banned slave’ry back in thirty three and anyroad nobs got fed up wi novelty an let most of ‘em go free.”

“Bloody heck,” I said, “Where the bloody hell do I find a nice plump virgin for tonight?”

“Tonight, Thee’ll be bloody lucky to find one in Salford at all, thee’ll have to marry a nob lad!” he laughed.

I had a think. Go without, risk whore house or marry a nob. Marrying a nob seemed best idea.

I had a think and thought nobs hung out at Queens Hotel so that’s where I went, they had Dinner Menu outside. and it were just after noon so I thought I would have a bite to eat. Now I ent thick or nowt but I couldn’t make head or tail o menu so I thought I woud ask waiter. Turns out they has dinner at tea time and noon time was Luncheon. Anyroad I had a feed.

Manager come up to me and asked me business, “Looking for a nob to marry,” I said, “Posh bint like, got to be pure mind.”

He got wrong end of stick and suggested a couple of whore houses.

“Nay I want a woman for keeps see, If I pay out a fair bit and keeps her bloody chained up I have a nasset see, not keep forking out for tarts till I gets bloody clap and me cock rots off.”

“You can’t keep slaves anymore, but there’s a chap round Inkerman Street does a smashing range of chastity belts,” he suggested, “Actually, tween thee and me, that Lord wi his back to us over there’s got more daughters than you can shake a stick at, why not make him an offer?”

I looked, some poncy old codger talking to his mates over a sliver of fish and drop o wine that woudn’t sustain a bloody church mouse.

“That’s handy,” I said giving him a big tip and I sauntered across.

“I hear you got a couple of daughters to offload like?” I says straight out.

“And who the hell are you sir?” he snapped as he stood to face me, “Have you no decorum.”

“What’s bloody decorum,” I says, “I ent no house painter I’m bloody Captain bloody Beckinthwaite from bloody Yorkshire and I speaks me bloody mind.”

His poncy nob mates was pissing they selves laughing at me, “Look if its bloody brass you want I’ll pay top dollar, long as she’s virgin, two legs, two arms, couple of bloody tits, her own teeth, hearing and seeing would be a bonus but long as she can perform in bloody bed I ent that bloody fussed.”

“I say George,” one of his mates, a simpering prat dressed like a right ponce says, “You might well marry off your Emily if you play your cards right.”

“I ent playing no bloody cards,” I said, “Hard cash, I knows too many bloody card sharps.”

“I have never been so insulted sir,” he says, but his mate grabbed his arm.

“George, think, he’ll pay,” this chap said, “Instead of a demanding a dowry he’ll pay you, you know you need the wonga.

“Ah,” he said, “I understand you now, why not come to my house directly and meet my daughters?”

His poncy mate warned him not to seem too keen but as soon as I said I’d pay their tab he agreed.

The bloke lived a mile or so from hotel, so we hailed a cab. His place needed a lick of paint and the Butler’s jacket had seen better days.

“Shall I show the, er, Gentleman, to the servants quarters,” bloody sarky Butler smirked.

“No he is a guest, Mr” the bloke explained

“Captain Beckintwaite,” I said, “I’m from bloody Yorkshire and speaks me bloody mind. Know thee’s bloody place or thee’ll feel me bloody belt cross thee bloody ass.”

“I beg your pardon,” he said all sarky like, “Sir.”

Bloody woman turns up, “By heck you’re an ugly bitch,” I says, “Hope you ent his bloody daughter, thee’d have to pay me to poke thee.”

“This is my wife Captain,” bloke says,“Lady McGonnegal.”

“No offence like,” I says as she belts me round the chops, we her dainty hand and half inch long finger nails. “Feisty piece ent she?”

“Captain Beckinthwaite wishes to court one of our daughters dearest,” the bloke says, I sort of guessed he was Lord McGonnegal, Lord Mc for short.

“Over my dead body,” Lady Mc retorted. I drew me dagger.

“Come now we are all friends here,” Lord Mc pleaded as his face went a deathly white, “Captain Beckinthwaite has just returned from a very profitabe adventure in the Americas.”

“Bloody nightmare,” I said, “Storms, Tempest, bloody feed water pump bloody spindle bloody gland bloody blew and I haven’t had a bloody shag in weeks.”

“Capain please,” Lady Mc insisted.

“I had a bloody gut full on’t it, bloody Shipping lark.” I said, “Brass is in bloody mining that’s what I reckon, high bloody time to bloody settle down.”

“And you seek to court my daughters?” Lady Mc asked.

“Bloody shag em more bloody like,” I said, “Don’t mind bloody paying,” I says, “Just as long as I gets her to me self, don’t want no filthy bloody butlers poking on her like thee and he does soon as bloody lordships’ back’s turned.”

Butler blushed near as red as her Ladyship did, I reckoned I had hit bloody nail on’t bloody head, I also reckoned Lord Mc were in on’t as well.

Lady Mc knew when to keep stum so she showed us into parlour. “Girls,” she says, “Come and meet Captain er, what is your name?”

“Beckinthwaite,” I says, “From Yorkshire.”

The first girl were knockout, blonde hair on her shoulders, blue eyes, square rigged dress showcasing her tits, out of my league, probably been rogered by half the servants, anyroad her scowled at me.

“This is Philomena my second eldest,” Lady Mc explained.

“So who is Mr Beckinthwaite?” the girl asked.

“Bloody rich and in need of a bloody shag,” I said, “I’m Yorkshire bloody born and bred and I speaks me bloody mind and you’re a knockout and no mistake.”

“I speak my mind too sir and you sir are entirely repulsive,” she explained.

Another vision of lovliness followed into the room, “Victoria,” Lady Mc explained, “And my eldest Francis.”

Bloody hell, her were no oil painting, well if her was it were by a bloody kid wi a bloody hangover. Wi her short hair and scowling face if it hadn’t been for her tits you’d have thought she were a bloody bloke

“Reet Francis, hedging your bloody bets were you?” I asked.

“How so?” Lady Mc asked.

“Couldn’t tell if it were a bloody bloke or a bloody girl eh, I seen prettier bloody cabin boys, baboons even,” I laughed.

“Good then we are in accord Captain,” Francis snapped, “You are equally revolting, is that an Albatross nest in your beard?”

“Bet bloody suitors are a bit thin on bloody ground,” I laughed. She actually looked hurt.

“I have no interest in such matters,” she said.

I thought a bit bloody quick, good chance her were a bloody virgin, if I blew bloody candle out it wouldn’t matter what her bloody face looked like.

“Well I reckon you might be just what I’m bloody after. I ent fussed about bloody looks all I want’s is me bloody end away,” I said, “Just as bloody long as you’re a bloody virgin I‘ll shag thee and and wed thee and I can’t say fairer than that.”

“Captain!” Lord Mc protested.

“Five hundred,” I offered, “Guineas, to take her off thi bloody hands and put a ring on her bloody finger, take it or leave it.”

“We really need the money,” Lady Mc confessed.

“And you expect me to lay with this monster for money?” Francis demanded.

“I want’s a bloody wife lass, not just a bloody tart to shag, someone to look after me bloody house, cook, clean look after bloody kids, that sort o thing.” I ventured.

“No pretence of love or affection then?” she asked.

“No, Bloody bollocks is that, bloody affection, I just wants a bloody shag, you won’t do better than that I shan’t bloody offer again.” I said.

“Good,” she said, “Then I won’t need to say no again, the answer captain is no, never.” She stormed away in a bloody strop.

“Feisty piece ent her?” I queried, “I got the cash,” I said, “If thee thought I were bloody messing.”

Lord Mc’s eyes bulged as I showed a pocket full of gold.

“Take a glass of wine Captain,” he said, “Perhaps.”

“Oh no, no way,” the other daughters insisted and they too rushed away.

“Let her calm down a moment,” Lord Mc suggested, “I have a nice Madera wine.”

“Go on then, I’ll have a bloody pint.” I said. He gave me about enough to drown a bloody mouse, tight fisted sod.

He had his missus go and sort Francis out.

I heard a rumpus, “Get off me!” I heard the girl protest, “Stop it, stop it mother I woukd rather die than marry that awful man.”

“Whats bloody on?” I asked, “I offered a fair bloody price, what’s wrong wi her.”

I stood up and went where the girl went, following the sound up the stairs me hobnail boots clattering on fresh polished oak floors, till I got to her bed room.

The mother were there with two chamber maids and the housekeeper. Poor Francis had her dress off and looked like she been whacked across face with a dead Haddock. Stunned she were.

All she had on were her corsets and knee length stockings, no knickers or nothing but showing her privates and nice creamy thighs.

The mothern and housekeeper grabbed Francis and spread her legs wide, “Take a look Captain,” Lady Mc invited with a smirk.

“Get off her you bloody bullies, bugger off,” I snapped, “I don’t her maulered about by the likes of you. Go on. Get out.”

“But Captain,” Lady Mc replied but the glint of light off me dagger blade soon changed her bloody tune, “Leave them, get out, get out.”

“Are you about to murder me Captain?” Francis asked.

I kicked the door shut and bolted it.

“No, I’d kill your bloody mother if I was you,” I said as I approached the bed, “Don’t fret lass, I never had to force a bloody wench to fuck me in me bloody life.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and covered her privates as I approached.

I knelt down bfore her and gently pulled her hand away. She shuddered. I gave her a minute.

“Don’t fret, I’ll not hurt thee.” I promised and then first I ran me fingers gently up her thighs and then I started to part her cunt lips with me fingers. It weren’t the first time. Her cunt was well used.

“Looks like you been bloody shagging already?” I announced

“Oh no, of course not,” she insisted, ”How can you say such a thing?”

”Well your bloody maidenhead‘s long gone,” I observed, “If thee ent had a bloody bloke I suppose thee’s been fucking thee’s sen wi a bloody Candle then has tha? Like I caught me bloody sister doing a time or two?”

“How did you know?” she demanded.

“I weren’t born bloody yesterday,” I explained as I undid me big pirates belt and let me trews fall, “Lets call it our little bloody secret shall us?

“Look Captain,” she protested but me fingers were no bloody strangers to a wench’s cunt and wi me thumb on her little nub her tits were getting nice and pointy.

She started breathing heavy

“Bloody fortnight wi out a shag,” I explained, “Can’t expect me to stop now lass.” I kicked me trews off me boots.

“But Captain,” she protested.

I weren’t born yesterday, no good ramming me cock at her, I had to be suttle.

I leaned forward and kissed her neck, her weren’t expecting it, so I kissed me way down across her tits and on down to her mound. She sort of wriggled. and gasped. I slid back a bit and kissed me way up her thigh till I got me tongue in the groove between her lips down there.

“Nooo,” she said but I was not to be denied. Her cunt was getting really moist now so I decided it were now or bloody never and I stood up before aiming me self at her cunt.

“What’s it to be lass, will thee bloody take me?” I asked me knob straining like a bloody Mizzen mast in me hand.

Her eyes were like saucers, she said nowt but grasped me knob and helped me aim it in her. I pressed a bit and me bloody knob end just shot up her soppin’ wet bloody cunt like an Anchor up a hawse pipe.It were bloody heaven. Right in till me balls were banging on her crotch, “What the bloody hell size bloody candle youm been using?” I asked.

“Oooh Captain,” she simpered, “That’s so, ah,”

“Big?” I asked. “See being bloody fucked ent so bloody bad is it?”

“Like a big warm supple candle, Surprisingly pleasant,” she agreed,

“So what’s it to be lass.” I asked, “Wed me or tek brass for the bloody fuck. Once I shot me bloody load in thee its for bloody life like, if thee can’t stomach it say now and I’ll shoot me bloody load over thee belly and say no more about it.”

“And the money?” she asked.

“Fifty guineas,” I said, “Not bad for shooting me bloody load over thi bloody belly?”

“Thank you kindly Captain, but shoot away sir,” she insisted, “For I fear you cannot restrain yourself and I believe you have a kind heart under that blunt Yorkshire exterior.”

“Thee want’s me to shoot a dose of hot spunk up thee then, does thee?” I asked.

She nodded, “Indeed I do,” she muttered, “So do your worst Captain.”

Me balls was bloody crinkling and me cock was bloody throbbing and suddenly it were too late for bloody pullin’ out and she was well fucked with me juice pumping in her like a pint of Newton and Ridley pumping from beer tap.

“How was that then lass?” I asked when I recovered a bit.

“Surprisingly pleasant Captain,” she chuckled, “Next time perhaps you will bathe first so it is less like being ravished by a wild boar.”

“Bathe be buggered, I fell in bloody Mersey yesterday,” I explained as I pulled out of her, “Suck me bloody cock hard I want’s t’ fuck thee again.”

“Only when you have asked me to wed you,” she laughed

“I already did,” I reminded her.

“I think not,” she replied, “But you may suck my teats if it help rouse youl.” And with that she pylled her tits right out of her corset and ordered, “Off with your shirt I wish to feel your manly chest against mine.”

“You ent got a manly chest,” I laughed, “Quite the bloody opposite,” and I pulled my shirt and vest off and held her close. Our mouths met, our tongues entwined. It don’t matter much what they bloody look like wi your tongue in their gob, so me cock reared and before I knew it we was bloody fucking again. Bloody bint was insatiable.

We gave it an hour or so before we went back downstairs. Lord and Lady Mc was waiting.

“We’re getting wed,” I explained, “If you’re agreeable like?”

“Absolutely old chap, congratulations,” Lord Mc chorted, “Let us have the engagement announced in Lancashire evening post.

“Bugger that I’m a bloody sea captain,” I exlained, “We can nip down bloody harbour and I can do bloody marriage, no bloody need to waste bloody brass on bloody vicars. In fact we can bloody do it now.”

Anyway her wanted her day in church so we’re getting wed official like, and do you know after we fucked a time or two her started bloody smiling at me and her looks quite bloody comely if you squints a bit when the lights behind her. But at end of bloody day its what they fucks like what matters and she’s bloody champion and no bloody mistake even if she is from bloody Lancashire.

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