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Amanda spread out her skirts and knelt down again, by his side. She undid her bonnet ribbons, carefully took off the hat and put it aside. Her right hand settled as gently as a humming bird on the fork of the thick army pants, her palm lying on the obvious sign of his aroused manhood.

"Suppose your soldiers were offered a bargain, James? That they could do whatever they liked with all the good looking women in this village for tonight, if only they'd agree to try to save the village tomorrow morning. Not much of a peace, but one long enough to try to push this steamer way from the wharf once it's on fire." Her fingers closed around his shaft and rubbed it gently. "If they'd agree to a bargain like that, would you agree as well?"

"I - I don't know."

Amanda's fingers undid the belt around his pants, loosening it and then pulling it apart.

"Think about it, James. For one night you could be another Caeser. Rows of helpless women chained and kneeling in front of you, begging for mercy. Do you think you'll ever get another chance like that in your entire life? Shall I tell you what sort of a play I'm planning on staging for you?"

Amanda plucked open the top button of the uniform pants as she was speaking. If the secret of talking to a mule was to get its attention, there was no doubt that Lieutenant Lee's ears were as pricked as much as any mule's could be. And that sure wasn't the only place he was pricked up.

She turned her head and smiled at him: "If you'll listen to me I'll undo all these buttons for you."

"Do tell, Amanda, do tell!"

"What you should do is search the Henrietta and I daresay you'll find plenty of chains and neck irons on her someplace. Nobody is ever going to transport another coffle of slaves down this river but the packet captains won't believe that until the South finally surrenders. So you find all the chains and neck irons you can, and you tell your boys to leave them down in the main saloon."

She bent to her task again and eased open another button. "OK, so far, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, just fine."

"Then tell them that each man is to leave a shirt in the saloon as well. And each man is to write down his name on a piece of paper and leave it in one of his shirt pockets."

She touched another button, pressing down on it against the pressure of the rising flesh beneath to get enough room to wriggle it free. The Reb's ardor was pushing up a fold of his shirt like a tent post. The school Ma'am put her hand on it and squeezed it gently. James' whiskers quivered as if he were feeling the heat of a branding iron being held against his body.

"I guess this must be the horn of plenty I've heard so much about, sir," Amanda giggled. "A true cornucopia."

"Lordy, Amanda, lordy!" The Lieutenant was almost whimpering with pleasure.

"Now, I plan to bring all the ladies down to the boat for their working bee about seven o'clock. We'll all be carrying food and we'll tell anybody who asks afterwards that we were ordered to cook the victuals and bring them down to the boat for you. But what we'll really be doing is taking off our clothes in the saloon and making ourselves up into coffles with the chains. Then we'll each put on a soldier's shirt and come up here to the Texas deck, where the village men down below can't hear anything."

Her nimble fingers undid the last button and opened the pants as widely as she could, wriggling the top of his pants down around the Southerner's narrow hips. She giggled again when she discovered there was nothing worn beneath the pants but the bottom of James' shirt, still draping a column which reared up amid the officer's rumpled clothing as if were an inflated balloon. But when she touched it through the fabric her fingers found a hardness they couldn't compress.

"Is this what a husband looks like, Lieutenant? Can I see it?"

Reueben groaned and nodded, his glazed eyes fastened on her as if she was the most fascinating thing he'd ever encountered.

"Alright, but let me tell you first what's going to happen tonight. We'll all get down on our hands and knees and kiss the men's feet to show how we're submitting to them and begging for mercy. Then you'll pick a woman at random and get her to read out the name in her pocket. Then she has to take off the shirt and give it back to the man it belongs to."

Amanda lifted up James's own shirt, staring at what she had revealed. "Is all this really you? Landsakes, I've never seen a body change so much."

She lowered the shirt on the far side of the shaft and plucked gently at the black curls clustered around the bottom of it: "I surely never saw one as big as this on my illustrations of Greek statutes, but I have seen these before."

Her fingertips juggled his balls lightly, and she watched in fascination as the man jerked as though she was hitting him instead of barely stroking the taut skinned eggs of his testicles. "James, can you feel that?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Fine - fine. So what I'm planning is that whenever a woman is claimed by a man she has to do whatever he says. Whether with him or with his friends as well, and with the other girls in that coffle helping out. Do you think a game like that would make your soldiers happy?"

"God, yes!"

"And you'll agree to tell your men about the suggestion and let them decide? The women for tonight to save the village tomorrow?"

"Yes! I'll tell them!"

"Alright, James. Now, just as a matter of interest, if you were a Roman and I was one of the Sabine women, what would you make me do for you right now?"

His hands reached out, one gripping her hair, the other seizing her behind the neck in a vice-tight hold. "Open your mouth, slave." He bent her head forward, close to the top of his swollen organ. "OK, Amanda, let's see you fire off my cannon."

She squealed - quietly. Her jaw hung open as he positioned her where he wished, then pressed her head down onto his rampant prick. He felt her lips slide around him, the dampness of her tongue against and around the side of his cock. Far from resisting him, her head began to bob up and down on his shaft as smartly as a feeding duck dipping below the water.

It was unbelievable, it couldn't be happening. He could hear his men calling and chaffing to each other out on the wharf, hear one of them singing:

"Sitting by the road-side on a summer's day,
Chatting with my messmates, passing time away."

There were shadows stretching out across the smart saloon, sunlight glinting off bottles behind the bar, and this fine looking young school Ma'am snorting and snuffling into his lap as she sucked him with enthusiasm - amateur enthusiasm perhaps but a thousand times more enjoyable because of that than being performed on by a paid whore from Hooker's Headquarters or Mother Russel's Bake House. She was right - never, ever, would a chance like this come along again. And if the other woman in the village would really perform like this school teacher . . . Oh Lordy, what a night was a-coming!

"Lying in the shadow underneath the trees,
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas!
Peas! peas! peas! peas! Eating goober peas!
Goodness, how delicious, eating goober peas!

The officer felt the woman's giggles coming from deep within her throat and through the tingling nerve endings of his organ as both of them heard the song. His fingers looped around the silk hair net holding the chignon of fair hair at the nape of her neck: clutching it firmly he bent her further forward yet to her work until she was snorting for breath and the locket hanging around her neck was resting on his hip.

Long fingernails scratched lightly against one of James's legs, others across his stomach. Then one of her hands was holding the bottom of his cock to steady it as her lips slid further and further down the swollen shaft. It seemed incredible to him that any respectable woman could have succeeded so quickly in taking him so deeply into her throat. She was submitting as much as she possibly could to his size, even glorying in it, her jaws stretched so widely apart that her teeth were barely scraping over his rampant flesh. The fingernails which had been running up and down his legs moved underneath and behind his balls, every light scratch making him shudder in delight. The officer bellowed in triumph, feeling himself ready to spurt forth into the school Marm's throat, holding her immobile and unable to move an inch to escape her fate.

Then the dam broke, the pressure was released, his seed came shooting out of him like steam from the boat's boiler, a whistle of utter satisfaction from between his clenched lips as Amanda choked, snorted, writhed, continued to jerk her head up and down on his lap to mark his final ecstasy with the ultimate feminine submission. When he was finally spent he watched in fascination as the girl calmly patted her lips with her handkerchief, sucking in her cheeks with her eyes closed, as if draining the last drop of sweet taste from a piece of honeycomb. Incredibly, there seemed some expression of smugness on her face - as if pleased with herself.

Later still, she was sitting in one of the armchairs, a smile still hovering on her lips as she sipped a glass of ginger beer that James had brought her from the bar. He was leaning back in an armchair with his bare feet on the coffee table, drawing in with deep satisfaction from a long nine cigar taken into Confederate service from the boat's humidor.

"Well, Lieutenant, was that a satisfactory token of good faith?"

"Indeed it was, Amanda." There was a pause as James wondered whether to speak aloud of his curiosity about her behavior. "May I be permitted to inquire as to how you came to be aware of that particular practice? Of course it's none of my business but you do seem to be a very . . . a very worldly-wise lady for one in your profession."

Amanda smiled disarmingly, looking like a teenage miss caught with a hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh dear, must I hold a candle to my shames? Very well then, James. The teacher before me in Stony Creek was an elderly man of European origins who died very suddenly from a chill. Since he had no relatives the school board put aside all his books in case some of them might be useful for the school. But I suppose they never examined them very closely because when I went through them I discovered a German volume called 'Gestohlen Fraun'. My German is very weak but apparently that means 'Stolen Women'. It's of no matter about the words anyway as the book is full of skilfully executed drawings of the most lascivious kind. In fact it was the drawings which gave me the idea of approaching you."

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