1922 The Sheik of Piddletrenthide

"No, we should keep going until someone rings her bell," came a cry from the back of the room.

"No, no, this is your last chance.

"What am I bid?"

A small group had gathered in the corner and were throwing coins into a cap.

"Trunk bids ten bob," shouted one of them.

"Ten shillings?" questioned the auctioneer.

"Yes, that's right. We all want to see it."

"Anybody else?

There was no answer.

"Ten shillings it is, then. Money up front," said the auctioneer.

A great cheer went up.

Ada was aware of something quite large being pushed against the entrance to her vagina. Slowly it was forced apart.

She had craved danger but she was now questioning her own judgement. Yes, it was stretching her as it made its way in but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact it was wonderful. She had no idea exactly how thick it was, but it was thick. As his bollocks touched her, she wasn't sure how long it was but it was in deep.

Ada gulped in air in preparation for what was to come.

Slowly at first, he fucked her. Steadily increasing his pace like a combined harvester gaining momentum.

Each slap of his ball spread her vulva and struck her engorged clitoris. Not every one of the old doctor's books had been fiction so she knew what things were called.

Ada felt as if she were on a magic carpet ride from 'One Thousand and One Nights'. She was certainly being taken to new heights of pleasure but she was glad that Trunk hadn't gone first. She wondered if Trunk was a nickname.

Ada screamed out, "Fucking Hell," as an orgasm rode her. Her fingers dug into the hay bale. Both knees wanted to give way but she was still held in place.

"Please, please make him stop," she pleaded.

"I reckon he's only had about seven bob's worth yet so you'd better get used to it, missus," said a voice in her ear.

Miraculously, the screaming of her nerves eased quickly and the pleasure returned.

Trunk did his best to get the last three shilling's worth but gave up about twelve pence short. For some reason he pulled out his cock and splattered Ada's ass.

"That concludes the Slave Girl Auction for today. If any of you has a wife to spare, we could make it a regular event," announced the auctioneer.

A final cheer went up.

Ada was rolled back up in her carpet and placed in the cart. The journey home seemed shorter, somehow more direct. The carpet was laid on a hard floor. By the time that Ada unrolled herself she realised that she was in her own scullery. She pulled off the flour sack and ran upstairs.

A half hour later she walked into her parlour in her dressing gown. Eric was sitting by the fire smoking his pipe.

"Good evening?" he enquired.

"Yes, thank you," she replied.

....................................................

Nothing was said the next day until the evening.

Ada broached the subject at last. "Were you number three?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I forgot to take any money with me so I couldn't make a bid."

"Couldn't you use the coins from the first auction?"

"The deal was that I should receive half of any money raised. But the rotten bastards said that I couldn't have it until the end. I tried to borrow some cash but no-one would lend it to me.

"I just had to stand and watch while I choked the chicken like everyone else who didn't bid.

"Some of the farm boys thought that it was hilarious that I had to wank myself off while my wife was being fucked.

"It was their idea to chip in for Trunk to have his turn with you," related Eric.

Ada said, "That was a shame. Would you care to make up for it now?"

"That's very kind of you," said Eric.

"Mind you, I must insist that you give me the money that I earned last night. I have a new dress and undies to buy," laughed Ada.

.............................................

It was late in the evening of Daisy's wedding. The festivities were starting to wind down. Eric stood on the outside of the marquee taking in the cooler air. From within he could hear Ada and Daisy in conversation. He moved a little closer. They had both been on the Perry and he hoped to overhear them talking dirty. It always made him smile.

Ada said, "He's been shagging you for over ten years. Funny that it should have taken this long for you to get knocked up and married."

"Truth to tell, I was a little disappointed. I've been holding out hoping that Rudolph Valentino would turn up on his white horse and whisk me off into the desert. It would have been more romantic than marrying a ploughman. Still beggars can't be choosers, I suppose," replied Daisy.

"I know what you mean, even having four or five local men couldn't compare to being fucked by The Sheik," said Ada, slightly sadly.

Daisy laughed, "I'll have to take your word for that. I've only ever had two at one time and one of those got me up the duff."

Both women laughed loudly.

.............................................

I am not a philosopher or a poet. I am simply a purveyor of beer and the occasional recorder of dirty stories that something or someone whispers in my ear. Even so, it occurs to me that the greatest gift that one human can give to another is to put that person's happiness before their own.

Now every time that Ada crossed the yard between the house and the farrier's workshop she was reminded of the night she was whisked away on her adventure. She often hoped that it would happen again.

About a week after Daisy's wedding her hope was rewarded.

This time, when the flour sack was slipped over her head and her arms were pinned to her side she did not scream. Wrapped securely in the old carpet she was gently placed in the back of the van.

Now the journey was much longer. She speculated on what danger and what adventure was before her. Even held as she was, Ada managed to move her knees enough to generate a little friction in her knickers. The moistness was devine. The anticipation, almost unbearable.

.................................................

Late that night, far out in the English Channel, the ship's Mate came up on deck. He fastened his trousers as he did so.

The mate announced to the Captain (in French), "We're in luck, she loves to be fucked. Although, for some reason she thought that I was pretending to be a pirate or something."

"I might give it an hour or so for her to get back into shape. If she likes your little cock she is going to go crazy for mine," joked the Captain (conveniently, also in French).

The Mate laughed out loud, enjoying the banter.

The Skipper went on (still in his native tongue), "I still can't believe that that stupid Englishman actually paid us five pounds to take his wife to Algiers and sell her to a Sheik.

"Still, I'm certain that any Algerian Brothel Keeper will be glad to buy her from us."

"I don't know what she looks like under that sack but I'm sure that that fat white ass will be popular.

"It's a good job she likes sex because she will be getting it all day, every day, soon," observed the Mate, with a gallic smirk.

...........................................................

Each evening, as he sat by the fire smoking his pipe, Eric thought about Ada. He liked to imagine her being bathed in rose scented water by the other women of the Harem before being taken to the Sheik's tent to be used by him or shared with his guests.

His happiness came from knowing that Ada was happy.