The completion of the railway brought civilization, in the form of white settlers, to the region around the mission. With the taming of Kenya, as British East Africa was beginning to be called, John Brown’s trade routes changed. No longer did he need to make the long trek to the coast; his inventory from England, Siam, India and China travelled by rail from the coast, and he transported the raw materials he traded them for back to the coast by rail. This enabled him to travel deep into the interior of central Africa, much deeper than he had previously ventured. The couple at the mission saw him much less frequently, much to the delight of Aston, much to the dismay of Elizabeth.

On those infrequent occasions when he did show up, Elizabeth’s heart raced, but with Aston or David and Mary present, they were unable to do more than talk. Elizabeth fantasized about going to him without anyone knowing, but she knew it to be impossible.

Her secret was still safe, but it burned on her conscious, and she was almost entirely unable to go to God in prayer. She feared mightily for her mortal soul, but whenever she thought of Brown’s rough hands fondling her, she was unable to feel anything but the desire to repeat her sin.

Despite her strong feelings of guilt and shame, she was unable to resist touching herself, as Brown had done. Now that she knew the pleasure of her orgasm, she ached to feel it more often. Many the time, after sex with Aston left her aroused, yet frustrated, she lay in bed, waiting to hear the soft, regular breathing that indicated he was sleeping, then quietly slipped her fingers into her cunt while rubbing her clit with the other hand.

She quickly became expert at drawing out her pleasure to provide the most intense orgasms. Stopping just short of her climax, panting heavily, she would wait for her arousal to subside, then she would start again, climbing back toward a climax, over and over until she could no longer delay it. Then, with a final rub of her magic button, the floodgates of her orgasm would burst open, filling her with an intense pleasure. It was all she could do, on such occasions, to stifle herself and keep from awakening her husband.

While playing with herself, she fantasized about Brown forcing himself on her. In her fantasy, she intended to keep her virtue, and never again cheat on her husband, but the cad undressed her and rammed her over and over with his big, thick cock. As she rubbed faster and faster on her clit, she imagined him bending her over the table, driving deeply into her from behind. Each time she climaxed, she envisioned the warmth of his seed, deposited deeply into her pussy.

There was no reason to believe that Aston knew about her indiscretion, but somehow their relationship seemed to have cooled. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it seemed that he somehow knew. There was never a word to that effect spoken, but it just seemed different now, somehow. Perhaps it was only her conscious.

Brown’s forays deeper into the mysterious interior of darkest Africa added to his storehouse of fantastic stories. Many the time, on those infrequent visits, he entertained Elizabeth and bored Aston with wild tales of incredible beasts, head hunting savage tribes, cannibalism and more.

Whenever Aston wasn’t looking, he would wink at Elizabeth, or stick out his tongue, or make lewd gestures at her. While she enjoyed his presence and his stories, which livened up her otherwise routine evening schedule, she detested these gestures. They were almost to say, “I know what you want, little girl.” While it was true, she detested him taunting her with it.

She hated the fact that she longed for the feel of his rough hands on her skin. She hated the fact that she fantasized about this old, fat, ugly man, rather than her own husband. But she also felt a thrill inside whenever she saw his wagon on the horizon, or heard it entering the gates of the mission. They hadn’t had a chance to rendezvous again, but she knew that she would be unable to resist his advances if they had the chance again. Her only hope was to avoid ever letting herself be alone with him.

He seemed to be doing much better than before; he had access to commodities that he had never before been able to procure in eastern Africa, such as chocolate beans and exotic coffee beans. Of course, his staples were still ivory, including the valuable rhinoceros horns coveted by the Chinese, who used them to treat a host of common maladies.

With the arrival of white settlers, the Larksley’s social life was expanded. Aston now held a service Sunday morning in English, for the white settlers, and they were frequently invited to the settler’s houses for meals, or to dinner parties hosted by the wealthiest of the settlers, who had the largest houses for entertaining.

Further, Elizabeth was able to supplement Aston’s meager salary as a schoolmarm for the white children, and teaching private piano lessons to them. It was expected that she would teach the native children as part of Aston’s job, but the white children couldn’t attend those classes. The white children would need more rigorous schooling, in order to have any chance of a secondary education.

Politics was often the topic of discussion at the dinner parties hosted by the new settlers. The Tangier Crisis, as it was called, was playing out in Morocco. Germany instigated the crisis in hopes that it would weaken the bonds forming between Britain and France. But it appeared to be backfiring, as England continued to support French interests in Morocco.

“It makes no sense, no sense at all,” Wills was saying. “The French are our natural enemy, and they’re in an alliance with Russia. Why we would think of siding with them makes no sense to me. I think these unnatural alliances, if they’re formed, could eventually draw us into an unnecessary war.”

Mr. Wills always had a strong opinion on any political matter, and he voiced it with conviction. His wife, who was the hostess, tried to moderate his tirades.

“Captain Waltham,” she said. “In your position, you must have insight into the matter. What’s the Kaiser’s intent in Morocco?”

Captain Waltham was the only single person at the dinner party. He was a young man, perhaps twenty four, and led a company of native Africans in the Kenya battalion of the King’s African Rifles. He had seen service in the Boer war, distinguishing himself as an excellent leader and leading to his rapid advancement.

He was always invited to these dinner parties, and always arrived meticulously turned out in his dress uniform. He was tall and thin, and his uniform had been expertly tailored. He was quite handsome, had excellent table manners, and was always tactful, rarely expressing personal opinions.

“No, ma’am, that information is above my rank. I know that relations with both German East Africa and the French Central Africa Republic are unchanged.”

“Tut, tut,” said Mr. Wills. “Surely you have opinions on the matter. Is an alliance with France or Russia in the best interest of the crown?”

Captain Waltham refused to be drawn into a debate on the matter, saying only, “With the demolishment of the Russian navy at the hands of the Japanese, there is no threat to our control of the seas. She who controls the seas, controls the world. I propose a toast to the British Empire, and to another hundred years of world domination.”

“Hear, hear,” the guests said, raising their glasses.

The mission school was closed for two weeks during the spring planting season, when every available hand was needed in the fields. One afternoon Elizabeth was in the kitchen, canning the last of their winter harvest, while Aston was out in the fields with David and Mary, tilling the land and planting the seeds they had saved from last year’s harvest. She heard a noise in the yard, and looked through the kitchen window. It was John Brown, leading his ox to the water trough. He filled the trough with some water, then came up to the house while his beast drank.

Elizabeth met him at the doorway.

“Good day, Mr. Brown,” she said.

“Top of the day to you, lassie,” he said, tipping his sweat stained hat to her.

Not seeing Aston inside, he said, “Where’s our missionary, then?”

“He’s in the fields with David and Mary,” she said, her heart racing.

She knew that it was entirely too risky to act upon her urges, but just having Brown in the house alone with her made her pulse quicken. She could think of nothing but his cock pounding her tender vagina.

“Oh?” he said. “When is he likely to return?”

Elizabeth knew, as well as Brown did, that it was unlikely any of them would return before dark, but she said, “There’s no way to know.”

“Now, lassie, surely he won’t be comin’ back while there’s work to be done,” he said, as he slowly advanced toward her.

Elizabeth trembled as she shrank away from the man. Bumping against the wall, she closed her eyes as he neared her.

“No,” she said, very quietly.

Her heart was beating through her chest as she envisioned the man’s hard penis and sac in her tiny hands. She had felt a man’s genitals only once in her life, and it had been Brown’s.

“No?” he asked, as he reached her and put his arms around her. “Why, lass, you’re shaking like a leaf. Everything’s alright.”

She melted into his arms. She desperately wanted to be virtuous, but her body betrayed her. She needed this brute to enter her, roughly. He sensed her lust, and turned her around to unbutton her dress.

“NO!” she said, reaching around and grabbing his hands. “I daren’t undress.”

Taking the back of her dress in his hands, he began lifting it until he held the hem. Elizabeth felt the air on her thighs and knew that she was exposed to his leering gaze. Holding the hem with one hand, he pulled down her knickers with the other. Then he pulled the cord that held up his pants and allowed them to drop around his ankles.

Dipping a finger, then two, into Elizabeth, he sawed in and out until she was well lubricated with her own juices. Removing his finger, he guided his hard dick into her. She leaned against a kitchen cabinet as he began thrusting in and out of her.

Elizabeth had been thinking of nothing but this since her last foray with Brown, and it was even better than she had dreamt. This act, in broad daylight in her own kitchen while Aston was nearby was so indescribably wicked, it made the pleasure even more intense.

Brown took long, quick strokes into her, making her grunt with his thrusts. She was terribly frightened of being caught, and wanted him to finish quickly, but she didn’t want him to stop until he was finished using her. She reached behind her to feel his sac as he pumped her. She lightly grasped it, her hand moving to and fro with his thrusts.

The attention to his balls sped up his orgasm, and Brown growled deeply as he ejaculated into Elizabeth’s tight pussy. He began to slow, then discontinued his pumping as he regained his composure.

“There, now that were right nice, weren’t it?” he said.

Elizabeth said nothing. She was still shaking with the fear of being caught. Her pussy was sore from the pounding, but she was extremely aroused. She would have to touch herself today, to relieve the need she felt. But right now, she just wanted to make him go away, in case her husband returned.

“You’d better go,” she said.

Her entire body was flushed, and she was afraid she might have some of Brown’s body hair or facial hair on her clothing.

Brown left, saying, “Good day, then, lass.”

He turned the ox around, and climbed up onto the seat of his wagon. Elizabeth couldn’t relax until long after the wagon had left the compound, afraid that Aston would know he’d been there.

Finally, when it was clear he was gone, she went into her dressing area and took off her dress. She looked it over carefully to make sure there was none of his hair on it. Then she removed her knickers and sat on her chair, wearing only her chemise.

Elizabeth had never masturbated in the light of day before. During the Victorian era, much information had been learned about the dangers of self-abuse, as it was called, particularly among females. Masturbation was thought to be the cause of epilepsy, among other disorders. The library of the mission included a treatise entitled “Counsel to parents on the moral education of children,” which described “bad touch” as one of two vices from which all other forms of unnatural vice springs.

Still, Elizabeth was unable to restrain herself. Despite knowing that it was wrong, and knowing that medical science had identified various types of disorders and madnesses as being caused by masturbation, the urgent need in her loins would not allow her to be circumspect.

Leaning back in the chair, she put her feet up on the cabinet next to her basin, spread her legs apart and dipped two fingers inside her pussy. She closed her eyes as she replayed the events of the afternoon while fingering her clitoris.

She imagined the big, thick dick ramming her from behind as she drew circles around her clit. She often drew out her pleasure, but her fear at being caught made her anxious to conclude as soon as possible. Thrusting her fingers deep inside her, she furiously rubbed her needy cunt until she exploded in an intense orgasm.

Quickly dressing, she brought the goats and chickens into the compound. Their pecking and shuffling obliterated any traces of the wagon tracks that may have remained from Brown’s visit.

Aston arrived after it was too dark to have noticed, in any case. He was so tired he barely finished his meal before retiring to bed. He would have long days for the remainder of the week, until all the tilling and planting was complete.

The following week, after all the children were gone, Elizabeth was preparing the afternoon tea. Hearing a horseman enter the yard, she looked out the window and saw Captain Waltham dismount. Aston stepped out of the chapel, where he had been reading and working on his sermon.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Aston said.

Elizabeth watched through the window as the men shook hands, and the Captain led his horse to the trough. He tied the horse’s reins, then pumped some water into the trough for it to drink. Elizabeth could see the earnest look on Captain Waltham’s face as the men talked. Aston listened without saying anything, a somber look on his face.

After they had finished their conversation, Aston said, “Won’t you come in for tea?”

“No, thank you,” the Captain said. “I wouldn’t dream of imposing unexpectedly on Mrs. Larksley.”

“No imposition at all,” Aston said. “We covet the arrival of white visitors. At any rate, this is the time of our afternoon tea. One more won’t be any extra trouble.”

“If you’re certain it isn’t an inconvenience.”

Aston took the Captain’s arm and led him into the house, where Elizabeth was waiting at the door for them.

”Darling, look who it is. Captain Waltham is here for tea.”

“If it’s not an imposition, ma’am,” he said.

“None at all, none at all. Come right in,” she said, as she went into the kitchen to fetch the pot onto the stove. Shouting back over her shoulder as she went into the kitchen, she said, “Please do sit down, Captain Waltham.”

Bringing in a tray of biscuits with jam, she sat it in front of the men and said, “Won’t be a moment on the tea. Please help yourself in the meantime.”

“Please do have some,” Aston said, as she went back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, I’ll wait for Mrs. Larksley.

The men stood as she re-entered the room with the tea. Setting her tray down, she placed a bowl of lemon slices and a bowl of sugar before them.

“Please sit down,” she said as she poured the tea.

While they sipped their tea, Elizabeth asked, “What a pleasant surprise, Captain Waltham. To what do we owe the honor?”

Captain Waltham looked down as he said, “I was just in the area and my horse needed water. Your husband was kind enough to invite me in.”

Elizabeth knew there was more to it than that. She had seen the furtive glances toward the house as he had imparted something to her husband, and the grave look on her husband’s face as he received the information. But she didn’t press the issue. She would find out after he left.

“By the way, Reverend,” Captain Waltham said. “We’ve been wanting to talk to your trader, John Brown. Any idea where we might find him?”

“None whatsoever,” Aston said, the color rising in his face. “He is certainly not “our” trader. We know him, but we haven’t seen him in at least two months.”

“Odd,” Waltham said, a quizzical look on his face. “Your neighbors reported seeing him here just last week.”

Elizabeth choked on her tea, and her face turned beet red.

“Are you quite alright, Mrs. Larksley?” Captain Waltham asked, jumping to his feet.

“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth answered quickly.

Her own voice sounded foreign to her, and she was certain the men could hear it shaking.

“Silly me, I just choked on my tea.”

“Don’t you remember, darling?” she said, looking at Aston and trying to act casual. “He was here just last week. He stopped in for just a moment to water his beast, then was on his way.”

“No, I don’t remember that,” Aston said, trying to control his voice.

The color went out of his face. He too felt his voice was trembling.

“Oh, I’m certain I told you,” Elizabeth went on.

When Aston said nothing, she added, “No? Well, I thought I had told you. Perhaps you were just so tired from working in the fields.”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Larksley, did he happen to indicate where he might be headed?”

“I barely said a word to him, Captain Waltham. I was too busy. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

“Did you notice what he had on his wagon?”

“No, there was a tarp over it, whatever it was. Why do you ask, Captain?”

“We hope to get intelligence from him on the activities of the natives he trades with,” he said.

His eyes avoided Elizabeth’s as he said that. She could tell he was lying. The air in the room was charged with tension.

Standing, the Captain said, “Well, I better be getting back to my men. Mrs. Larksley, thank you for a delightful tea. I don’t know how you do it, out here in the wilderness, but I’m certain there isn’t a better tea in the whole of the empire.”

Turning to Aston, he nodded and said, “Reverend,” then turned on his heel and left.

As he walked to his horse, he thought to himself, “Right, that was fairly awkward. I wonder what I’ve walked into here.”

He couldn’t help wonder about Aston’s relationship with Brown. It appeared there was animosity between the two, and he was surprised at Elizabeth’s reaction, and her neglecting to inform Aston that Brown had been there.

Elizabeth dreaded the conversation that would follow, but surprisingly, Aston never brought it up again. She felt certain that he must suspect something, but the truth is, Aston was totally incapable imagining his wife to be untrue, especially with such an odious man as Brown.

He never thought about it, but if he had, he would have guessed that the only pleasure a woman would receive during sex was the pleasure of bringing such great satisfaction to her man. He could never have envisioned the act being pleasurable to a female in the same manner as it was to a male. Since he had no idea that females might possess the same, powerful urge that males had, he would never have reason to believe them capable of cheating.

She wished to know what news Waltham had brought, but didn’t dare bring it up. However, it wouldn’t be long before she would find out. Within a week, it was commonly known that the natives in German East Africa had murdered a party of five missionaries who were on safari, including the local Roman Catholic Bishop.

“It’s not a wonder,” Wills boomed, at their next dinner party. “Those bloody Germans don’t know how to run a colony. There’s other ways to get the natives in line than to treat them so brutally. Look at the way Britain treats her subjects. We don’t have the problems the Germans do, eh Waltham?”

“No, we don’t treat the natives as the Germans do,” he said thoughtfully. “Their treatment of the natives is downright scandalous. They’ve forced them to grow cotton, to the exclusion of all else, and now that their country is gripped in a severe drought, the native population is starving to death.

Further, they’ve upset their entire social fabric. While the men are busy working for the Germans, growing cotton and building roads, the women are left to fill the traditionally male roles in their society. It’s hardly a wonder that the peoples grasp at any hope they’re given by a false prophet that rises up to lead them.”

“Do you think the violence will spill over into Kenya?” Mr. Simmons asked.

“There’s no indication that it will,” Captain Waltham said. “It appears the Germans will handle this firmly, as they always do. Nonetheless, I’ve been asked to keep an especially keen eye on the settlement, and we have two battalions along the border with German East Africa. You have nothing to fear.”

The Larksley’s saw much more of Captain Waltham over the next few months.

It wasn’t remarkable that he preferred their company over the other settlers. After all, they were about the same age, while all the other settlers were older, some of them much older. The Larksley’s, moreover, didn’t press him for the latest gossip, nor did they share the local gossip with him. Waltham was a man of few words, and he hated the vapid, idle chit chat that civilians seemed to delight in.

He often joined the Larksley’s for afternoon tea, after the last of the schoolchildren had left. He was polite, intelligent, and handsome, so he made for excellent company. His presence reassured the couple that all was well, and that they were safe in this wild land. Though he was young, Waltham had a calming, confident presence.

In the end, he had his man. When Brown next rode into the settlement to unload his goods at the train depot, Waltham’s company brought him into the fort. While Waltham questioned him as to the goods he delivered to the natives, the men secretly searched his wagon.

“I’m a citizen of the empire, no different than you. Ye have no right to detain me.”

“I’m not detaining you. You’re free to go, but you’ll be followed if you don’t cooperate.”

Brown angrily asked, “What do ye want?”

“I want to know what you’re trading with the natives.”

“Textiles,” he said.

“Yes, we know that your primary product is textiles. But we have good reason to believe that you’re also dealing in opium.”

The opium trade in Asia was becoming a huge problem for the English empire. It was estimated that over thirty percent of the population in China was addicted, with English merchants benefitting financially. Waltham’s superiors were determined not to allow the same to happen in Africa.

“I don’t have access to opium,” Brown protested.

“We have reason to believe otherwise,” Waltham said, stalling to permit his men time to thoroughly search Brown’s heavily laden wagon.

Brown put his feet up on Waltham’s desk and clasped his hands behind his head, rocking back in the chair.

“Well, I guess you must satisfy yourself on that score,” he said. “You’ll let me know when your men have finished searching my wagon, I’m sure.”

Waltham seethed at the smugness of this horrible man. He could have run him through with his sabre, he hated him so. He represented the worst of the British Empire. He was fat, ugly, and reeked of tobacco and liquor. His teeth were bad, his skin was horrible, and he had no scruples, trading in pain and devastation.

Waltham’s man entered his doorway and nodded at him, then walked away.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Brown, but if you’re dealing in opium, you will be caught and arrested.”

Brown tipped his filthy, sweat stained hat at Waltham and said, “Thankee, Cap’n, I’ll be sure not to do that, then.”

Waltham paced his office after the man left, angry enough to spit blood. He hated people like Brown, and wanted nothing more than to bring him down.

“Are you sure you searched it thoroughly?” he asked his subordinate.

“Yes, Sir,” he said. “If it were there, we would have found it.”

Brown chuckled inwardly as he clucked his beast forward, and the wagon lurched as he left the fort. He put his foot on the board covering his secret compartment, ensuring that it was secure.

“Bloody fools,” he thought to himself.

Though Waltham appeared at teatime often, he didn’t come empty handed. He used his rations to bring delicacies to the house, including granulated Caribbean sugar, soft, refined wheat, Swiss chocolate, pickled herring, and other hard to get commodities.

Waltham rode into the compound, hopping off his steed and leading him to the water trough in a single motion. Elizabeth watched from her window, admiring both the animal and the rider. She loved his steed. She came out with a handful of parsnips and held them in the flat of her palm, allowing the powerful beast to take them from her tiny hand. She rubbed his face as he chomped the roots.

“You’ll spoil him,” Waltham laughed. “One day I’ll need him for battle, and he’ll bolt to come here for treats.”

Elizabeth said nothing, admiring the beauty of the creature as she stroked his head.

“Have you ever ridden?” Waltham asked.

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

Though she wanted nothing more, it was unheard of in the Victorian era for an English lady to ride a horse.

“I’d better not,” she said.

“Tut, tut, these aren’t the dark ages. Why don’t you ask Mr. Larksley?”

Her heart skipped as she went into the chapel.

“Darling, Captain Waltham is here,” she said.

Aston came right out, anxious to see his good friend, the Captain.”

“I say, old sport,” Aston said. “Good to see you.”

“Hello, Reverend,” Waltham said. “Mrs. Larksley was admiring my horse, and indicated a wish to take a ride. Would you object?”

Aston was taken aback. It seemed unladylike to ride a horse, and almost scandalous with an unmarried man. What would his parishioners think?

“Well,” he stammered.

“Perhaps just around the yard, here,” Waltham suggested.

“Well, just in the yard, perhaps.”

Waltham climbed into the saddle, and reached down to take Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her up. His grip was powerful, and she was whisked off the ground. She landed side-saddle in front of Waltham, holding onto the saddle horn. She could feel the power pulsing in the mighty steed’s huge muscles as he pranced, waiting for the command from his master.

Waltham had an arm on either side of Elizabeth as he held the reins, ensuring she couldn’t slip off the saddle. The beast took off, trotting lightly with legs high, rocking Elizabeth up and down as he strode. Her pulse quickened as she was held between the powerful muscles of the steed, and the powerful arms of the rider.

After riding a circuit of the yard, Waltham pulled up to a stop and helped Elizabeth down into Aston’s arms. Aston regretted having permitted the ride, as he jealously eyed the handsome officer.

“Thanks ever so much, Captain,” Elizabeth said. “Do come in for a spot of tea.”

The church was considering expanding their reach further into the African interior. Aston was asked to take an exploratory trip into the French controlled Central African Republic. The church felt it important to provide the natives an alternative to the papist Catholic missions established by the French.

Aston was excited, as he felt the responsibility of this important assignment. He couldn’t help but be pleased by the trust placed in him. He excitedly prepared for the trip.

“I’ve asked Captain Waltham to make sure you and Mary are safe, while David and I are away,” he said as he packed his case.

Aston’s Swahili was good, but it was likely the natives would speak a variant, so David would be going with him to help translate, if necessary.

The first day Aston was gone, Waltham arrived at tea time, hopping off his horse and leading it to the trough.

“Hello, Ma’am,” he said as Elizabeth came out to offer the creature an onion.

She stroked his head as he munched the treat.

“How would you like to take a real ride on him?” Waltham asked, with a mischievous leer.

Elizabeth felt particularly naughty as she said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

After the beast had a long drink, Waltham climbed back up on him and pulled Elizabeth up. Elizabeth hoped that Mary wouldn’t see her, but knew she wouldn’t say anything to Aston in any case. She rarely talked, and never to Aston.

Elizabeth initially sat side-saddle, but Waltham pulled her back into his chest and said, “Not today, Mrs. Larksley. We’re going to go full-tilt. You’d best be secure.”

Elizabeth felt positively decadent as she spread her legs on either side of the saddle, leaning against Waltham’s powerful chest. Waltham wheeled the animal around, and they trotted out of the compound.

Once in open field, Waltham gave the animal its head, and the horse took off as though the pair weighed nothing. Elizabeth had never felt more exhilarated, as she bounced up and down on the saddle. The feeling of her groin rubbing against the saddle as she bounced was incredible. Her rump was taking a beating from the pounding, however, and after a few minutes of galloping, Waltham reined in the horse, slowing it to a trot.

“Wheeeee,” Elizabeth shouted, craning her neck back and shouting into the sky. “That was fun.”

Waltham reveled in the feeling of this fair, petite creature in his arms. He was constantly surprised by this woman, who didn’t quite fit the mold of a missionary’s wife. He hadn’t held an English woman in his arms in years. Her hair was pinned up, but wisps of it flew into his face as they had raced through the field. He breathed in her aroma.

Waltham brought the animal up at a copse of trees and hopped off, helping Elizabeth down. He held her in his arms just a moment too long before releasing her.

“Why, Captain Waltham, I’m a married woman,” she said teasingly as she broke his embrace.

“Yes’m,” he said, smiling at her. “But what if you weren’t?”

“Why, then, my father would determine if your intentions were honorable. You are an honorable man, are you not, Captain?”

The mood broken, they rested awhile, then mounted the steed again. Again, on the way back to her home, Elizabeth reveled in the feelings of the powerful animal beneath her groin as she bounced up and down on the saddle.

When she arrived home, Elizabeth drew some water and took it into the house. Filling the basin in her dressing room, she stripped and washed herself. Once cool, she patted herself dry with a towel and sat on her chair to pleasure herself.

Very rarely did she have her house to herself. Even more infrequently, after having been excited by a strong man and a powerful steed.

As she rubbed her pussy, she recalled the feeling of the horse’s muscles pulsing beneath her groin as she was held in Waltham’s muscular arms. As she thrust her fingers in and out of her moist puss, she massaged her clit. Today, she would draw out her pleasure as long as possible.

Again and again, as she neared her climax, she discontinued her ministrations and waited until her impending orgasm waned, then she began anew. The house was extremely warm, and there was no ventilation in her dressing area, with the door closed. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow as she continued to attend to her needy clit. Finally, her clit sore from being rubbed, she allowed her orgasm to crash over her, carrying her to heights of ecstasy. She sat still, regaining normal breathing for a long while before getting up and dressing.

Elizabeth saw much of Captain Waltham over the next week. He insisted that she needed watching, as he had promised the Reverend that he would keep an eye on her. He was flirtatious, but he seemed immature, hesitant, unsure. Elizabeth cooled to him, and he sensed her pulling away.

Taking her on a ride one day, he pulled into a shady spot near a river. Hopping off his steed, he helped her down, and they sat next to the babbling brook. As they sat, Waltham pressed against her. Elizabeth yawned, which infuriated Waltham. He tried to hide his anger, but she inwardly laughed, aware of his frustration.

She delighted in provoking the large, strong man, who she considered to be an immature youngster, even though he was most likely the same age as her. She greatly enjoyed teasing the cock-sure young stud. If this attractive young man had even a portion of the carnal knowledge of John Brown, he could have pleasured her immensely, but he was without a hint, and she wasn’t inclined to instruct him. She had no intention of becoming part of the settler’s gossip mill, nor showing herself to be a tart.

Waltham was aware that Elizabeth was toying with him. He was unused to women scoffing at him, and he grew increasingly angry with her. The angrier he grew, the more Elizabeth delighted in teasing him. The tension between them was palpable. Elizabeth laughed at him, while he gnashed his teeth, trying not to appear affected.

Aston returned home, excited about the prospect of moving westward, deeper into the African interior. Heretofore, the only missionary presence had been the French Catholics. He tried to describe the beauty of the rolling plateaus, with the myriad of wild animals, drawn by the many tributaries, rivers and grasslands.

After almost six years, Elizabeth felt nostalgic as she sorted their meager possessions, deciding what to take and what to leave. She knew she would miss her students immensely. There would be few, if any white settlers near the new mission. She remembered the boredom she felt before the settlers arrived. She was feeling old, and sorry for herself.

One evening the new missionaries arrived. They would stay with the Larksley’s for two months, during which time they would train them, as they themselves had been trained by the Thurman’s.

Elizabeth couldn’t believe how young and naïve the couple were. She realized that she and Aston must have been just like them when they arrived. She felt so much wiser and more experienced now. As she replayed the events of the last six years, she recalled the rough usage she had experienced in the hands of John Brown.

She hadn’t thought of John Brown in some time; it had been almost six months since they last saw him. Today, for some inexplicable reason, she could think of nothing but the rough treatment she had experienced in his hands. She tried to clear her mind, but it kept returning to the crusty old lecher taking her. She ached to be used by him, to feel his fat cock buried in her, to hear his grunts and growls as he spewed in her, to feel his rough hands pawing at her as he pleased. He alone knew what she wanted, what she needed, what she most craved.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Larksley, are you quite alright?” the young missionary wife asked her.

Breaking off her reverie, Elizabeth came back to the present.

Shaking her head, she said, “Oh, excuse me. I was just remembering back when I was in your position, newly married and newly arrived to this wilderness. Now where were we?”

After three weeks, Aston, David and the new missionary left to go build the new compound in Central Africa. They would be gone for several weeks, during which Elizabeth would give the new schoolmarm a crash course in Swahili, as well as all the tasks that made up the role of a missionary’s wife in the wilderness.

Jane was a very plain girl, tall, thin and awkward. She was very shy around others, and dreaded the dinner parties that they were invited to. Elizabeth assumed she would blossom as she got to know the other settlers; she had no choice but to do so. She never had a word to say, and it was almost painful to watch the settlers try to draw her into the conversations. Eventually, they stopped trying, and allowed her to be a fly on the wall, looking down into her lap as the settlers carried on lively conversation around the table.

With Aston gone, Captain Waltham resumed his visits for afternoon tea, after the children had left. It was obvious that Jane was greatly impressed by the regal looking military man. Their bearing was so much the opposite of each other, she seemed to shrink to nothing in his presence.

One day, on a lark, Elizabeth decided to go for another ride. She greatly missed their rides, tearing across the savannah on Waltham’s steed.

“Jane, darling, I need to pay a visit to a friend, and Captain Waltham has agreed to take me. Will you be alright for an hour or so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, incredulous that Elizabeth would take ride with a man other than her husband.

Elizabeth didn’t care what she thought. She knew she would tell her husband the first chance she got, but she didn’t care about that, either. It was unlikely that either would mention it to Aston, and even if they did, she could make up an excuse.

Waltham was taken aback, but he put down his cup and followed Elizabeth outdoors. Hopping onto his steed, he helped Elizabeth up, where she sat sidesaddle in front of him. As soon as they were out of view, she straddled the saddle, and Waltham clucked the horse into a faster cantor.

The Captain had made a decision not to allow this woman to toy with him any longer. He felt a fool whenever they were alone, and he had determined not to be alone with her again. Now that they were, with the scent of her hair near his face, he forgot his resolve and allowed himself to thoroughly enjoy the feeling of this fair, young woman in his arms.

“Faster, faster,” she encouraged.

Her entire personality was altered when she rode. She was like a young schoolgirl on a swing.

“Faster, faster. Wheeee!”

He spurred the horse into a gallop. Elizabeth leaned forward and grasped the powerful animal firmly around the neck to keep her rump in the saddle. As she moved in tune with the animal’s gait, her vagina rubbed against the saddle horn. The feelings of having her pussy rubbed, combined with the thrill of racing across the countryside on this large horse were incredibly exciting.

After a few minutes, Waltham pulled into a place they had stopped at before, a copse of trees along a creek. He hopped off and helped Elizabeth down. She was still laughing delightedly, positively giddy from the ride.

“Well, Captain Waltham, I suppose now you’re going to have to woo Jane, with me gone.”

Waltham burst into a spontaneous chortle, unable to check himself at the unlikely image of himself courting the homely young wallflower.

“Why, Captain Waltham, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh aloud. I thought they had trained you not to.”

She was toying with him again, and his face flushed as he became angry. He despised himself for allowing her to be in a position to trifle with him again, after promising himself not to.

“I guess we should be getting back. After all, you are a married woman.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me, Captain Waltham. I can see where it would be easy for a woman to lose her head around such a handsome military man.”

Waltham seethed inside, but bit his tongue, refusing to allow her to see his anger. Elizabeth couldn’t have told you why she enjoyed playing with the Captain thusly; perhaps it was because she had seen many such young men, handsome, cock-sure, and so arrogant. Perhaps it was the thrill of being able to control a strong man, much the same as the thrill of controlling a twelve hundred pound horse that could trample you if it desired.

“Perhaps you’ll have better luck with Jane.”

She got up to start toward the horse, but Waltham grabbed her wrist and jerked her toward him. He had had his fill of her biting tongue, and resolved to teach her some manners.

“Captain, you’re hurting me,” she said sharply.

“Perhaps that’s what you need; nay, what you want,” he said, laying her over his knee.

“Let me go, you cad,” she said.

Ignoring her, he lifted her dress, exposing her knickers, and fell to slapping her rump. His anger rising, he slapped her again and again as she kicked and yelled.

“You little alley tramp, what do you mean by taunting me?” he cried as the slaps rained down on her rump.

Her knickers cushioned the blows somewhat, but the Captain was a powerful man. Still, she was more fearful of being harmed by him, in his state of anger, than she was actually hurt.

As she felt his hand on her arse, and realized how exposed she was, she suddenly became very aroused, and began to enjoy the attention. When she stopped thrashing, Waltham came up short, realizing what he was doing.

He quickly stood, helping Elizabeth up, and said, “Dreadfully sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Shut up,” Elizabeth said

It was the first time Waltham had ever allowed his emotions and masculinity to trump his manners, and she didn’t want him to spoil it by talking. She bent over, dropped her knickers and lifted her dress, offering herself to the Captain.

Waltham gasped as he had a clear view of her genitals, available to his advances. He quickly dropped his trousers, unleashing his hardening penis, and came to her. She leaned against a tree, her forehead on her arms, as he attempted to penetrate her.

His large dick poked her, but wouldn’t enter. She reached around, grabbing his dick and rubbing it up and down her slit to lubricate it and to help open her lips. Guiding it back to her opening, she held it in place while he pushed it in and out until it slid easily the depth of her vagina.

He began unbuttoning her dress, and when he had it half undone, he reached in, fumbling under her chemise until he found her breasts. He kneaded them, toying with the nipples as he continued driving in and out of her pussy.

Elizabeth reached under her dress and began rubbing her clit as the Captain pounded her from behind. Waltham tensed, stopping momentarily, then bucked wildly as he groaned his climax.

She felt the warm, sticky liquid enter her, further lubricating her slippery cunt. Moments later, she felt her orgasm mount, then crash over her. Waves of intense pleasure emanated from her genitals, and from her nipples that were being squeezed by Waltham.

He held her, saying nothing, until the last of their orgasms had gone. Then she pulled away from him, allowing his manhood to pop out of her. She pulled up her knickers as the Captain’s sperm began to ooze out of her, then reached behind her to button her dress.

Waltham pulled up his pants and rearranged his uniform, unsure what to say, or what Elizabeth would say. Surely she wouldn’t inform anyone; it would hurt her reputation as much as it would harm his career.

When she was in order, Elizabeth said, “We should return.”

When Waltham helped her off the steed, in front of her house, she said, with a glint of mischief in her eyes, “Thank you ever so much for the ride, Captain Waltham.”

to be continued…..